


Fourteen Dreams

by Ira_Dunfort



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: AU but not actually AU, Attempt at Humor, Awkward Flirting, Biblical Themes (Abrahamic Religions), Day At The Beach, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Dream Everything, Dream Sex, Dreamwalking, Edgeplay, F/M, Falling In Love, Fellatio, First Date, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Fluff, Fuckfly, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Oblivious, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, She/Her Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Smut, Soft Bureaucracy, Swearing, Valentine's Challenge, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, Wet Dream, because dreams are dreams, but only in the background - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:29:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22512520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ira_Dunfort/pseuds/Ira_Dunfort
Summary: Follow the Archangel Gabriel as he repeatedly enters into the dreamworld of the demon Prince Beelzebub. There will be cake and kisses, dinnerappointmentsdates, paperwork, a dragon, and so much more.Updated daily starting 1st of February until Valentine's Day.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 123
Kudos: 212





	1. Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This one wasn't born from love but from anxiety. When I get depressed, I turn tired and quiet. I'll have entire conversations and dates and tumbles with my husband in my head while sitting still, unable to move, unable to talk, waiting for something or someone to drag me out of that. I took that mess, let it rest and turned it into Soft Bureaucracy when I was feeling better. Depression can fuck right off.
> 
> A fair little warning: Beelzebub, naturally, can do to Gabriel whatever she wants in her dreams, and Gabriel enters her dreams uninvited and has to deal with it. If you tend to squint really, really hard and then see noncon, maybe don't read this. Believe me, they'll both be fine. 
> 
> Enjoy!

  


###  ●○○○○○○ 01 EYES ○○○○○○○ 

  
The world didn’t end. _That_ happened. Continued eternal existence was suddenly an option for both opposing parties, namely Heaven and Hell. 

The only problem was, that now, after six thousand years of bureaucratically noted, filed and secured order provided by The Plan, there now was… nothing. Just as there is no war without War, there is no plan without The Plan. Some might call it freedom, as choices could now be made that did not fit The Plan anymore. It was no easy task to explain this concept to angels who believed in the fun of _fun_ damental obedience.

It was the reason why the Archangel Gabriel, as the Messenger of God, was entrusted to meet with Hell’s representative to learn about imagination and free will among Ethereals, how to find out what someone excels at without it being assigned at creation by Her, and, most importantly, how to keep everyone busy and productive without having to use too much force. 

The lack of war also meant no more smiting, no more Hellfire or Holy Water. While previously the goal had been to eliminate the other side in its entirety, they now had already settled on a frowned-upon truce.

The archangel's work’s focus now lay on finding out how and why Aziraphale had been able to be his, in retrospect, quite useless and irritating self for the past millennia and what role the demon Crowley had played in their not-world-ending-scheme. Gabriel’s issue with the whole ordeal was that his assigned infernal partner for the investigation didn’t show up.

The Lord of Flies, the demon Prince Beelzebub, was late. Not just her usual late, but well over half an hour late for their meeting. Gabriel groaned with frustration. How was he supposed to get anything done this way? Cooperation with Hell had been a stupid idea. It was his idea, a good one in theory, yes, but admittedly, this one idea of his had turned out to be stupid. He flung his pen across the table in annoyance and rubbed his face with both hands. 

Desperate times call for desperate measures. The Archangel Gabriel had exhausted any other way of getting hold of the aloof Lord of Flies. She wasn’t picking up her phone or replying to his text messages, his emails remained unanswered, even the friendly ones. How rude. He had sent her reminders of the upcoming meeting even by post. Twice. She still was late. It had been the fifth time and Gabriel had reached the limit to his angelic patience. 

There was another way to contact someone, for him. He had done it in the distant past, to deliver prophecies, messages from God, inspirations to humans of importance. He could appear in a dream. Humans these days didn’t take well to it nor would anyone believe them if they did. 

Gabriel, thanks to Micheal’s backchannels that _didn’t_ exist, had picked up that the demon Prince tended to take long naps these days. No war to handle, more free time, something like that. Lazy and procrastinating, that’s what this was if anyone were to ask him. 

Gabriel settled down on the black leather chaise longue of the burrowed office on Earth, folded his hands on his suit-clad chest and closed his eyes. It was worth a try, to reach out and see if maybe Beelzebub was simply oversleeping. A little wake-up call and they’d be right back on track. 

Which led him to sit in the same spot he had occupied a week prior, with Hell’s main representative sitting across the table. It was the same cherry wood table, the same black leather chairs, the same patterned green carpet, and wood-panelled walls. It wasn’t the real room though, but one created from Beelzebub’s memory in a dream. 

Only Beelzebub herself looked different. Her arms weren’t crossed in bored defiance, she wore no frown. No, in her dream, she had an elbow propped on the table and leaned her head on a fist. She was looking at Gabriel, letting her gaze wander freely and linger on his face. 

Time to remind her to wake up and get going. “Lord Beelzebub, I must insist that you --”

"What's your golden thing?" The demon interrupted him. How fucking _rude_.

Gabriel had to shake his head at the very unexpected question. "Excuse me, what?"

"Is it a necklace?" She asked, eyes dropping to his neck and upper chest, searching for a hint. 

"No." Gabriel held up a hand gesturing that it was his turn to speak.

"Mine was a brooch." Beelzebub continued nonchalantly, forehead wrinkling like that of a shortsighted human who was trying to read a sign too far off.

Gabriel's hand fell to his side. "You remember?"

"Bits and pieces." The Prince said with a shrug. "I remember how my golden flecks were across my face and that yours,” she pointed a finger at him with a smirk, “are down your spine."

Gabriel swallowed and straightened his tie. This was quite uncomfortable for him, to have the demon Lord know such intimate details. 

Her eyes dragged even further down his body. “I always wanted to know how far south they go.”

“Beelzebub, with all due respect, this is unprofessional.”

“So what's your golden thing when you hide the heavenly flecks on Earth?”

“It's none of your business.” He had to put his foot down. “Our _actual_ business, may I remind you--”

“I bet it's a golden Prince Albert.” Beelzebub bit her bottom lip while her eyes lingered on Gabriel’s crotch. 

“A what?” Gabriel carded a hand through his hair. He was getting nowhere here.

The demon snorted, clearly amused by his increasing unease. “Maybe you don't have a golden ornament.” She wondered, leaning further towards him onto the table. 

“Why would you think that?”

“Your eyes.” She sighed. “They are like lilac gems, amethysts. They are beautiful enough, you don't need gold to show off what you are.” 

"Pardon?" Gabriel, perplexed, blinked several times. He had never heard her use that tone of voice before, there was not even the slightest hint of malice in it. Did she really just _compliment_ him?

“You heard me.” Beelzebub smiled at him and struggled to pull her blue eyes away from his purple ones towards the clock on the wall. “I think I’m supposed to be somewhere...”

“Well, as I was trying to say--” Gabriel didn't get to finish his sentence, _again_. 

Then, without warning, he was suddenly back in the office he had lain down in. This meant that Beelzebub was awake and hopefully on her way. A few minutes later she finally stalked through the door, hair messier than usual, face unreadable as ever. Her demeanour was harsh, her ideas pragmatic and her cooperation begrudging. 

At first glance, nothing between them had changed. Yet, Gabriel spotted minute differences when she thought he wasn’t looking. How her eyes lingered on him instead of his PowerPoint presentation which he was rather proud of, or the way her hand remained on the table next to his own while they were going through the necessary paperwork to protocol their meeting. He tried to explain the importance of a schedule and punctuality to Beelzebub, but she seemed more and more distracted after he had rolled up his sleeves. 

Now, he was curious.


	2. Picnic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a picnic, Gabriel realized. They had discussed the proceedings a week ago after Crowley had taken Aziraphale out on one. Who would have thought the idea would stick with the Prince of Hell enough to make her dream about it? With him in it, no less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for the softest and most innocent Bureaucracy dumbfuckery? Here ya go.

  


###  ●●○○○○○ 02 PICNIC ○○○○○○○ 

  
Gabriel was sitting in his prestigious heavenly office with a nice view over New York, Madrid and Jerusalem. He was considering his options regarding the file that lay open on his pristinely white desk.

Micheal's _nonexistent_ sources had found out that the two traitors had purchased, more or less legally, a cottage in the southern English countryside, at the edge of some village among rolling hills, next to a small apple orchard. Crucial intel, all things considered, because the traitors were about to settle into a shared and permanent residence, believing that an angel and a demon could peacefully coexist in close quarters. Delusional bullshit. Their moral codes, or the lack thereof when concerning Hell, would clash constantly. They’d never be able to stop compromising to stay close all and each day. And for what, exactly? To nest, like human couples? To even share, God forbid, _meals?_ Maybe even a bed! As far as he knew Aziraphale didn’t sleep, but he did, in fact, own a bed in Soho. He was using it to laze about in a pile of at least a dozen down-filled pillows while reading one of his countless books in flannel pyjamas, sipping hot cocoa like a child. The mere thought of that had Gabriel roll his eyes. Soon, the former principality might be doing that with a slumbering demon next to him, how fucking quaint.

Gabriel, being _the_ Messenger, had to get this message through to his infernal partner. This time he would deliver the news personally to Beelzebub since she still refused to reply to any other means of direct contact through texting or emails, leaving him no reference to know if she was reading them in the first place.

So, in the second instance that Gabriel felt inclined to slip into Beelzebub’s dreaming mind, he had nothing but good intentions. He was the holiest of holy, after all. His plan was to give the Prince a quick and very important update on the traitors' move without having to drag her to Earth for a meeting she won’t show up for on time anyway. Telling her about the rapidly developing situation between the angel and demon in a dream was far more efficient. 

The Archangel snapped his fingers with great purpose and a chaise lounge appeared in his office, a copy of the one he had used on Earth, but in a far more classy grey colouring with purple stitchings and golden embroideries. He toed off his shoes and lay down on it, shuffling a little to get comfortable, and let himself drift. 

When his consciousness entered into Beelzebub’s dream, he saw those lush green hills Micheal had shown him in pictures. He also felt the spring sun on his corporation and a soft blanket beneath him. He was lying down with one hand on his stomach, the other behind his head and he was looking up at a blooming fruit tree. 

“This is nice, isn’t it?” He heard Beelzebub say beside him. 

He turned his head to face her and was a little taken aback at what he saw. The Prince wasn’t wearing her usual suit. She was dressed in a simple black blouse, hanging loosely around her body, and wide black slacks. No shoes, no fishnet socks, but each nail on her small toes were coated in shiny black. He looked down at his own body and found his feet were naked as well, surrounded by grass and wildflowers.

“It is nice, yes.” Gabriel replied out of politeness, not entirely sure what she was referring to.

The angel was starting to suspect that if someone was already dreaming of him, then he had to use the version of him provided in the dream to speak with them. Which, in this situation, meant for Gabriel to be wearing a purple polo shirt and beige chinos, matching her attire in casualness. His watch was missing, making him feel naked for unknown reasons. He rubbed at his left wrist to relieve the strange sensation. 

“I can see why they want to move here, it’s quiet.” Beelzebub closed her eyes and held her face into the sun, her unruly black hair getting further tousled by a breeze. “And the air is clean, unlike the polluted mess of London or the stale and mouldy Hell I live in.”

Gabriel sat up on the black and purple striped blanket. He should tell her he was real, that she wasn’t alone in her dream. He didn’t mean to pry, only to tell her something that, unfortunately, she obviously already knew. But now that he was here, he might as well take the chance to talk some reason into the demon. “Good thing we don’t need to breath.” He said. 

“Yeah. We also don’t need to eat.” Beelzebub pondered with a melancholic sound to her words. “Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it.” 

She reached into a wicker basket and pulled out a plate of cheese cubes and grapes, one of each skewered as a pair on a brightly coloured pick. A plate of mozzarella and cocktail tomatoes decorated with a green leaf each followed, then a bowl of raspberries, a paper bag filled with small rolls, a tub of butter and a box of sliced cheese and ham. 

This was a picnic, Gabriel realized. They had discussed the proceedings a week ago after Crowley had taken Aziraphale out on one. Who would have thought the idea would stick with the Prince of Hell enough to make her dream about it? With him in it, no less.

“You know what, Gabriel,” she started, speaking around a cheese cube she had pulled off the pick with her teeth, “I get it.”

“Get what?” Gabriel asked, inspecting the food. Only half of it matched what the traitors had been eating. What Beelzebub had brought, or rather dreamed up, seemed modest in comparison. 

“Them.” The demon said and lay back down, tugging the grape from its pick as well. 

The angel turned to her, brows pulled up in confusion. Which she couldn’t see, her eyes were closed again. Why keep your eyes closed in a dream? “What do you mean?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” She sighed. “Unlike the rest of your lot, Aziraphale can _love_.” A piece of mozzarella found its way into her mouth. “Your principality lives. He indulges in food and fiction and is madly in love with Crowley. It’s plain as day.” She ate a tomato next. “I’m jealous, to be honest.”

Gabriel lay back down himself, but on his side, so he could keep studying her. “What is there to be jealous of? Both are exiled, all they have left is each other.”

“As I said, you wouldn’t understand.” Beelzebub answered, her disappointment ringing clear. She turned her head to look at Gabriel, pulling another cheese cube from a pick with her teeth. While she chewed, she held the pick out to him, offering the grape. It was just a dream, he wouldn’t be sullying his real body with this, so he took it like she did, pulling the small fruit off the pick with his teeth, all the while keeping his eyes locked with hers. Gabriel could feel his cheeks fill with heat from the unfamiliar intimacy. 

It was all a little too much for him, the taste and texture of the fruit bursting in his mouth, it's intense juice coating his tongue. Eating was fucking _weird_. 

Then, there was also the fact that Beelzebub was closing her eyes once more with a relaxed sigh and _reached for his hand_. How was he supposed to react and why didn’t he feel like pulling away at all? Gabriel looked down at their joined hands, at how her polished black nails were reflecting the dancing spots of sunlight underneath the tree. How small her hand was compared to his, it was such an abstrously endearing sight. He moved his hand, lifting hers to take a better look out of curiosity he couldn’t curb and stroked the pad of his index finger over the black colouring. Was this a demon thing, that they were naturally black? Or did she paint them for aesthetic reasons? She kept her nails short and even, the tips weren’t jagged but smooth, unlike what he had expected. Her skin was surprisingly soft and warm and Gabriel had to fight the confusing urge to lace their fingers together. 

“This is nice.” She repeated, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. 

Gabriel couldn’t even begin to fathom why she’d ever touch him, and touch him this tenderly. It made no sense. The most irritating part was that he couldn’t bring himself to let go. 

_Fuck it._

He gave in to his unreasonable instincts and entwined their fingers, let their hands fall back down onto the thick blanket. Imitating her, he closed his eyes. He heard the wind rustling the leaves above them and the Lord’s flies buzzing around the flowers of the meadow. It was quiet and at the same time, it was not. Gabriel gently squeezed her hand and he could feel his treacherous heartbeat when she repeated the gesture. 

She was right, this did feel nice, and he was allowing himself this moment of calm that he was _sharing with a demon_. Gabriel took a deep breath he physically, theoretically, didn’t need, but it felt grounding nonetheless. He stayed for a long while, only sparing half a thought for how long. There were no pressing matters at the moment, he could have this, whatever _this_ was. 

When he returned and woke up on the grey chaise longue of his own heavenly office, the taste of the grape was still on his tongue. He looked at his hand and frowned. There was his watch again, ticking intently.

But now he wanted Beelzebub’s hand back in his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hand holding is intense, guys, take it from Gabriel. 
> 
> On a side note, I decided to slap flowers into most chapters because, well, it’s springtime and Valentine’s and I hit a romantic streak. 
> 
> Up next: 03 - Tie ♥


	3. Tie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Nice_ was such an insufficient word in general. He knew perfectly well that it was a filler for statements you had no concrete word for or didn’t dare to say something else. That he had to use it himself irked him, but what else was he supposed to call it? He had never felt anything like this before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about some progress that is in the wrong and right direction at the same time? 
> 
> Enjoy!

  


###  ●●●○○○○ 03 TIE ○○○○○○○ 

  


Beelzebub was yet again late for a meeting. Gabriel kept spinning his silver fountain pen between his fingers, contemplating the situation. He shouldn't go back into her mind, he had already seen more than the demon would ever allow if she knew he was there.

That picnic, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. The pen toppled from his fingers and clattered across the table. Gabriel groaned and rubbed at his chest as his heart wanted to beat. What was _wrong_ with him? And what about the demon! How was she able to be so relaxed with him in her dreams but consistently looked ready to punch his face when they met anywhere else? Why couldn't she smile at him, like in the dream. That had been, well, Gabriel didn't know what it was beside feeling nice. 

_Nice_ was such an insufficient word in general. He knew perfectly well that it was a filler for statements you had no concrete word for or didn’t dare to say something else. That he had to use it himself irked him, but what else was he supposed to call it? He had never felt anything like this before.

It was like the grape, the taste was right there on his tongue, but Gabriel couldn’t put a name to it. 

It was distracting. It made him feel antsy. However, Gabriel couldn’t help himself, he wanted to explore it as well, despite knowing better. Demons meant nothing but trouble to him.

Especially this one, who wouldn’t fucking show up on time! She left him little choice, he had to get through to her. Maybe she wasn't even asleep at the moment and only avoided him through other means. As if there was anything more important to tend to. Or work had gotten in the way and she had a valid reason to not be here. 

Well, only one way to find out. 

He closed his laptop, reclined his chair and locked the backrest into place, ignoring the chaise lounge. With his hands folded on his middle, he closed his eyes and let himself drift.

His intuition had been right, she was asleep. 

"And you wonder why I keep putting off these meetings." Beelzebub growled at him. 

That was how she greeted Gabriel. It wasn't a greeting, per se, from her posture it seemed as if they had been arguing quite heatedly in her dream. Gabriel took a quick glance around the room. It was the same office room they had been using for the past few months, like in the first dream he had visited. 

"And why would that be?" He asked the fuming demon who was leaning onto the other side of the table, the wood around her hands singed and soot black.

"Nothing comes out of this, Gabriel, you’re wasting my time and boring me to death.” The demon groaned, balling her small hands into tight fists.

Gabriel, not sure what had been happening before he arrived in this dream-build body of his, held up his hands to placate. “First of all, you’re an immortal demon, time is of no consequence. Second, no one has ever discorporated from _boredom_. Besides, these are important matters--”

“You just keep talking and talking and talking.” Beelzebub rolled her eyes at him, her head following the petulant motion. “You’re so fucking lucky that you’re pretty.” 

“I’ll do you a favour and take that as a compliment." Gabriel bowed his head at her.

His words only seemed to have angered her further. "You really enjoy hearing yourself speak, don't you."

“Well, if you haven’t noticed, I am the Messenger of God.”

“Can't you ever shut up?" The demon yelled, clearly upset with him. 

"How about you finally come here and make me!" Gabriel snapped right back to remind her that she was supposed to be at the real office, right now. But she was here, barking complaints at the Gabriel in her dreams as if that was helping anyone.

When she rounded the table to stand in front of him he was prepared for getting a knee to the groin or a punch in the throat. He did _not_ expect her to crowd him against the wall with a dominating stare, grab his tie to harshly pull him down and for his lips to be caught by hers. It was a crude gesture of one mouth simply being shoved against the other without finesse.

Gabriel frowned at her when she pulled back. "You're not making any sense."

"Don't I know it." She sighed and rested her forehead against his chest, not letting go of his tie, crinkling it. “Why did my heart have to choose _you_ asshole?”

Gabriel placed his hand on hers where it held his tie in a fierce grip. “You know your heart isn’t real.” He _almost_ felt like a hypocrite. He had felt his own absurd heartbeat, after that picnic, and it had felt quite real. Every time he recalled the memory of how she had looked at him, on the blanket, he could feel the nonsensical thudding in his corporation’s chest. Just like right now, while his lips felt all tingly, and his hands itched to pull her against him. 

She looked up at Gabriel, and _fuck_ , her eyes were of the most intricate blue. “You’re not real, either.” Beelzebub said to him and her free hand roamed over his body, up to his neck and traced his strong jawline. “The real you would never let me do this.” 

She tugged at his tie again to pull him back down. It was a proper kiss this time, a far more tender caress of lips. Beelzebub made the sweetest little sound somewhere between a sob and sigh when Gabriel’s mind short-circuited and he leaned into her, reciprocating the movements of her lips with his own. What the Hell was he doing? He attempted to pull back, but then he felt the tip of her tongue tentatively probing at him. Oh, good Lord, what if he _let_ her? He opened his mouth slowly, and there it was, her tongue, slipping in. 

Suddenly, the kiss wasn’t just soft pressure, it was also _taste_. His eyes fell shut on their own accord, blocking out sight to focus on his other senses. A whiff of burned wood was coming from the demon's hand on his cheek. 

But there was more: the underlying note of brimstone, the cotton of her clothes, and something akin to honey coming from her skin and hair. Gabriel inhaled deeply. He knew this other smell! Was this tea on Beelzebub’s breath? How much of her corporation translated into her dreams, he wondered. Curious, he licked into her mouth and the demon gasped. Her hand finally let go of his tie and held onto his shoulders instead, fingers kneading into muscle.

Then, the strangest thing happened. Gabriel started to pay more attention to Beelzebub than to himself. The way she clung to him, her breath brushing over his skin, the enthralling sounds she made when he deepened the kiss even further as their tongues met. He was sure she was enjoying this, she urged closer, hands finding their way under his jacket. Gabriel lifted his own arms and wound them around her smaller frame, holding her, relishing the enticing mewl that escaped her. He was doing something right. Well, no, kissing a demon was all sorts of wrong, but kissing Beelzebub, like this, he was doing it right. Why else would she be shuddering oh so slightly against his body and tip her head like that to tease a startling little moan from Gabriel's throat. His left hand shot up and he buried his fingers in her messy black hair to keep her angled just like that.

But then, she pulled back and licked her reddened lips. This was his doing, Gabriel acknowledged, and he couldn’t look away from it. 

“I have to go.” She said in a hushed tone, nuzzling at his chin. 

Meeting be damned, he bent down, wanting to kiss her again. "No, stay, Bee--"

"I _have_ to go," she repeated and stopped him with a hand in his chest, "or you'll discorporate me. The real you."

Gabriel tried again to chase her mouth, but before his lips connected to hers, Gabriel was back in his office chair, alone, with a frantically beating heart. He pulled his tie off and took several deep breaths to calm down. 

Roughly ten minutes later Beelzebub showed up. She listened to his share of information while poking at the mixed flowers sitting in a small vase on the table, a fly or three of hers crawling from her finger into the blooms to suck at the nectar. She handled everything professionally, took her notes, gave brusque answers to his inquiries and left, flies rising from the bouquet to trail her. 

She had not yelled at him, which was good, but she also hadn't been kissing him, which Gabriel was not all that sure anymore if that particular circumstance was good, too. 

Beelzebub being his partner and enemy at the same time was already a conundrum in and of itself, but Gabriel had to go into her dreams and make things more complicated. The angel reached up and graced a finger along his bottom lip. 

Maybe he should change their meetings up to make her more comfortable, to at least maintain the state of not-yelling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you have it. Gabriel has finally one (1) thought that isn’t centred on himself. Good boy.
> 
> Up next: 04 - Cake ♥


	4. Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He _could_ ask Micheal for help, but, first, he was the Archangel fucking Gabriel, and second, he was absolutely capable to handle his relationship with the Prince of Hell on his own. 
> 
> This is why Gabriel made an appointment at an establishment that served food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hypocrisy turned up to 11 for unrecognized romantic reasons, who’s ready?
> 
> Enjoy!

  


###  ●●●●○○○ 04 CAKE ○○○○○○○ 

  


Gabriel _bored_ Beelzebub. As offended as he felt by the words she had said to him in a dream, he had to take this into consideration when scheduling their meetings. What could curb her boredom? What did he know about her, what she liked? Food was one thing. She was the Prince of Gluttony, after all. He turned onto his side on the chaise longue he had kept in his office. It wasn’t just food that she liked, she didn’t seem to be into haute cuisine as Aziraphale was, judging by her dream-picnic.

The picnic was his only real point of reference. Well, the only time he actually cared to pay attention. Yes, they had met in the past, but usually only to fling threats at the opposing side. There had been a couple of instances where Heaven and Hell had met to lay ground rules for the upcoming war, in spacious and decorated tents, temples, castles, churches. Banquet halls, he faintly remembers that she liked those. She had kept stealing small snacks from an event of the humans through a side door while the Prince of Wrath had kept Micheal busy with an infernal hissy fit. Gabriel remembered that Pride had complimented his suit that night, so at least one demon had taste. 

So what did he know about Beelzebub? She liked simple foods, she liked her surroundings to be quiet and maybe… flowers? She was a demon! Yet, the meadow had been covered in them and at least her flies seemed to like that. 

He _could_ ask Micheal for help, but, first, he was the Archangel fucking Gabriel, and second, he was absolutely capable to handle his relationship with the Prince of Hell on his own. 

This is why Gabriel made an appointment at an establishment that served food. It was a quiet place located at a lake, surrounded by trees and a park. There were ducks resting on the shore, quacking for the attention of patrons. The demon arrived only 17 minutes late, an improvement that gave him hope for a fruitful meeting. Gabriel met Beelzebub at the front door to accept the usual cold greeting from her, but he didn’t miss how her eyes roamed the scenery with interest. 

He led her inside, exchanged pleasantries with the maître de and followed the young man to their reservation spot. It was a spacious room, secluded from the rest of the establishment, with one wall being made up of windows and a glass door leading to a terrace surrounded by blooming forsythia bushes.

“This is a restaurant.” Beelzebub said, disbelieving, and took the seat closest to the windows.

“It is.” Gabriel acknowledged while sitting down across from her. He took the menu from the middle of the table and placed it in her hands. “Choose whatever you like.”

She stared at the leatherbound red booklet, then back at him. “Food disgusts you.”

“True, but I happen to value your company.” The angel explained. 

“You--” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Gabriel, if you’re just pulling my leg, you can fuck right off.” She put the menu down and crossed her arms. 

He knit his brows, incredulous. “I'm trying to be nice here.” 

"Right, you're not just attempting to butter me up." The demon scoffed.

Gabriel appealed to his angelic patience to keep the snarky comeback to himself and set up his laptop. "There is work to be done, Beelzebub, and I thought food would help you pass the time more pleasantly." 

She tentatively picked the menu back up. "Who exactly is paying for this?"

He gave her a smirk. "Not of your concern."

The way the corners of her lips perked up at his answer, it did something to him, something he couldn’t put into words beside _warm_.

The Vatican was paying for the demon Prince’s meal. They claim to take the money in the Lord's name, therefore Gabriel could use it for the Lord’s work. His work and the respective expenses thereof, like tailored suits for a good impression among humans or, well, to take Beelzebub out for dinner to lighten her mood and have her stay for more than an hour. 

Because, as he had to accept begrudgingly, he really did value her company. One might even dare to say he was starting to like her. 

One of the windows was tilted for fresh air and Gabriel noticed how several flies appeared from Beelzebub’s black mop of hair and made their way outside and into the bright yellow flowers. He felt more than a little smug about it. So far things were going smoothly, so he refrained from commenting on it. 

The Prince ordered a creamy red soup made from tomatoes for a starter while Gabriel explained to her what Michael had found out while going through Aziraphale’s old files. He handed her a physical folder since she still refused to answer any of his mail, electronically or analogue. The file listed all specific dates and events in question that needed research, something about Rome and oysters and wine and baths. This way she could go and gather information on what Crowley had been up to at the same time and had no excuse to not bring results the next time they met. 

During her main course, some local river fish with spinach and small potatoes, he was able to present his own findings without being on the receiving end of snide remarks or Beelzebub rolling her admittedly beautiful eyes at him. He was done when the last potato found its way into her mouth. 

She didn't leave right away. _That_ was new. She stayed and ordered dessert, a sweet and hot pastry with strawberries. She licked whipped cream off her spoon and leisurely observing Gabriel who was taking his last few notes on his laptop. 

"How are you?" She asked, making small talk. 

Oh, Gabriel liked the amiable tone her voice had. He gestured at his computer’s screen with a smile. "Well, as you can see, work is--" 

"No, how are _you_?” She said again. “Not the Archangel and Messenger of God, just you."

"I don’t--” Gabriel frowned. “I don’t know how to answer that question."

She eyed him curiously at that statement, making him squirm under the scrutiny. Why weren't her eyes softer, like in her dreams? Her gaze was imploring as if she was trying to read him like a contract with dangerous fine print.

"Tell me next time." She got up and adjusted her sash. "Thank you for the meal."

With that, she left, leaving behind a stammering angel with empty plates and every line of his thoughts ending in knots.

Gabriel was unable to focus for _days_. He kept pacing in his office, trying to find an answer. It should not be of concern. There was work to do, the loophole to be found as to why they were immune not only to Holy Water and Hellfire, but also to God's wrath.

“I’m good.”, was plain stupid. He was an angel, of course, he’d be _good_. He was created with the intention to be good. "I’m fine." was a cop-out. It wasn't a lie because those three words never mean anything, to begin with.

How was he? What was he feeling? He flung himself onto his grey chaise longue to concentrate. 

Well, he surely was _restless_ , not because of his work as God’s Messenger and representative post-not-apocalypse, but because of Beelzebub. 

Confused, since such a simple question left him walking circles in his office.

Conflicted, about why he felt the urge to wander back into her dreams to see her again despite knowing that he shouldn't. 

But fair is fair, she invaded his head with questions, so he could go into hers for answers. His logic lacked reason, but they were both supernatural beings, so fuck that. 

He turned onto his back, glared at his white ceiling for a moment and closed his eyes with a deep breath. When he slipped into her dreams for the fourth time he should have expected this.

He was back at the table in the restaurant with Beelzebub sitting closer than she had five days before, right next to him. There was a fork in his left hand laden with something chocolaty and crumbly. He wasn't going to eat it himself, no, he was offering it to the demon. She ate it straight from the cutlery, locking her eyes with his. The softer gaze, there it was. How could he make her look at him this way outside of a dream?

"How are you?" He asked her while browsing the table that was covered in various cakes. There was a purple one with blueberries in it, he'd let her try that one next.

“What does it matter?”

"It matters to me." Gabriel admitted to himself as much as to her. He lifted the purple morsel to her lips. "So, how are you?”

"Hungry." She said with a lopsided smile before opening her mouth. Gabriel fed her.

"Just hungry?" _Talk to me._

"No." She sighed and rested her weary head on her hand. "I'm tired. I'm always tired."

"You don't need sleep, Beelzebub." He took a raspberry pastry next. She liked raspberries, why else would she have brought them to the picnic?

"I need my dreams." There was something broken about those words. “You’re not out of my reach here.” Her other hand found its way onto his knee, squeezing. 

It didn’t make any sense to him. "I'm never out of your reach, all you have to do is to send the appropriate request for a meeting and--"

She held up a hand to stop him. _Put it back on my leg!_ "I meant Gabriel, simply Gabriel. The narcissistic idiot who obsesses over purple, tailored suits and jogging." Oh. This explained why they were back in casual clothing, sitting so much closer together. Why she freely accepted being fed a piece of a pie with orange coloured fruits in it. Did she want to get to know him better? Know thy enemy, smart move. "The moron who loves Earth but doesn't admit to it, not even to himself."

"You consider me stupid?" Gabriel frowned at the rude demon.

"I do." She nodded and ate a piece of cinnamon pastry, judging by its smell, off his fork.

There had to be more to it. "Why am I getting the feeling you like me, then?" Gabriel implored. 

"As I already said, you're lucky you're so pretty." Beelzebub said with a mischievous smile.

That smile, he couldn't take his eyes from it. He reached out and pushed a black strand of hair behind her ear. "Can I kiss you?" Gabriel asked, a rush of peculiar excitement pooling in his stomach. 

The demon nodded, laying her hand back on his leg, moving it up his thigh for balance. Gabriel leaned down to catch her sugar-coated lips, but the dream was gone, ripped away from him within the blink of an eye, and he was back in his office.

He pressed a palm flat in his chest, feeling his own hammering heartbeat. He wanted to kiss her so much it _hurt_.

A week later, he had a reservation at Café Reichard, a patisserie across the Cologne Cathedral. He was waiting for her at a small table outside, under sunshades. She’d most likely hate the white and gold decor, but enjoy the confections. 

“Where is your bag?” She said to him in greeting, regarding him down along her nose.

“Good morning, Lord Beelzebub.” The Archangel retorted with a smile. “Please, take a seat.”

She did, crossed her legs and arms, and glowered at him. “Where is your bag, Messenger?”

“In my office. I don’t think we need it today.” He explained and, just lake the last time, handed her the menu.

She took it, then dropped it onto the table without even taking a single glance at it. “Don’t waste my time.”

"I'm intrigued." Gabriel blurted out. “That’s my answer.”

Beelzebub sat back in her chair and eyed him with suspicion. She didn’t trust him, and she probably shouldn’t, given the fact that he kept prying into her dreams. Dreams he was always a part of before he even entered them. He wanted to know _why_ he was there just as much as he wanted to know why he craved to be there. 

“Intrigued by what?” She inquired, pinning him with her cold gaze.

Gabriel opened his mouth, closed it, then steeled himself. “You.” Gabriel offered, openly. 

A faint blush rose to Beelzebub’s cheeks, good Lord, it looked good on her. “Why?” She asked and her tight posture was unwinding ever so slightly. 

“I don't know. It feels right.” He couldn't find words for why he was drawn to her, he only knew he was, and digging deeper than that heralded itself to be a terrible idea.

“You, going with intuition?” She cocked a brow at him. “Are you trying to make me laugh?”

“I'm sure a laugh would suit you.” Gabriel replied and snapped his fingers. A waitress changed her course and served them a platter filled with a plethora of cake slices and tartelettes. A group of old ladies were rightfully outraged but forgot about it with a wave of the Archangel’s hand.

"You're probably charming demons up left and right with food to get your intel." She took a dark chocolate tartelette and pushed the entire thing into her mouth. "Oh _fuck_ ," she mumbled, "this is good!"

There it was, a smile! Gabriel's chest was filled with warmth, his heart threw up an excited beat and he had to clear his throat, trying to shake the unfamiliar, elating feeling. Again, there was the urge to kiss her. He licked his lips. "Eating out is a privilege I have reserved only for you."

At that, the demon Prince choked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel, you’re such a fucking mess. 
> 
> Up next: 05 - Tongue ♥


	5. Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting her in Cologne had been nice, better than nice, it had been everything that demons _shouldn't_ be. And if she had kissed him, it would have been--
> 
> No. He was not allowed to get distracted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the title doesn't give it away yet, this one is NSFW. 
> 
> Enjoy!

  


###  ●●●●●○○ 05 TONGUE ○○○○○○○ 

  


Their non-business meeting had gone far better than Gabriel had expected. If it had been the quality of the cake that had convinced her or his own winning character, he wasn’t all that sure yet. Oh, who was he kidding, it had to be his character.

The important thing was that she had stayed there, at the café, with him, without any obligation to do so. 

She _stayed_ , voluntarily, with her legs crossed, baring her delicate fishnet-clad ankles under the table, while talking with Gabriel, nibbling sweets and drinking tea. Which meant he was right, it had been the smell of tea on her breath when he had kissed her in her dream. 

In the small pot on the table was fresh peppermint tea with lemon slices. She took it with no sugar or milk, but with a dab of honey. She sipped from the steaming cup, her black nailpolish contrasting the white porcelain. 

They had spent the afternoon people watching, taking guesses at who will go to Heaven or Hell. Judging senior humans by their choice of cake or how they took their coffee, it was far more entertaining that Gabriel had imagined. Not that he had ever considered doing that, judging humans wasn’t exactly his department.

But he had learned a few things about Beelzebub. According to her, and he trusted her on this, being the prince of Gluttony, anyone putting more than four cubes of sugar into their hot black brew was as good hers. So were those whose pile of whipped cream was bigger than their slice of cake. 

But on the receiving end of her coldest glares were those who smoked while eating, and who stuffed their fat bellies with pastries while their children had to watch with hungry eyes. Gabriel could get behind that. 

“Your lot keeps forgetting that Hell doesn’t exist to excel evil, but to punish it.” She told him over the rim of her teacup. 

“But you tempt humans to do it.”

“We do.” She nodded. “But pointing out that there is a gun on the wall or forcing them to pull the trigger, those are two very different things.”

Gabriel contemplated this for a moment. “But if you wouldn’t tempt them to sin--”

“-- there would be no creativity. Heaven provides the rules, we provide the temptation to break them. Humans would be nowhere without us.”

“They’d still be in Eden.” Gabriel stated. 

“Yeah, fuck that.” Beelzebub laughed. “They’d be nothing but animals in a zoo.”

She wasn’t wrong, and he did not know what to do about _that_. 

Later that day, when Gabriel was back in his heavenly office, he wasn’t able to concentrate on the statistics Ramiel had sent him. His mind kept going back to Beelzebub, her smile, her laugh, how she had kissed him. 

Meeting her in Cologne had been nice, better than nice, it had been everything that demons _shouldn't_ be. And if she had kissed him, it would have been--

No. He was not allowed to get distracted. Statistics needed to be adjusted, forms to be filed, reprimanding letters to be written. He had to pull through for two weeks, then he would get to see her again. 

At least that was what he had thought, but now he was tapping his foot impatiently in the restaurant. Beelzebub was late, as always. He had hoped food would get her to show up on time, they had been on a good track. He glanced at his watch. 47 minutes. The waiter shot him a sympathetic look. 

Beelzebub was most likely oversleeping again, for whatever reason. For someone who kept accusing him of wasting her time she surely should know better than to waste his every single time they had a meeting.

Gabriel growled and stood up to make his way to the reception desk. Miraculously there had been a reservation for one night under the name Gabriel Smith, and he gladly accepted a keycard. A quick ride up the elevator to the third floor and he was in his room. He closed the door, took off his jacket and stared at the bed. 

Him, laying down in a bed, that was a first. Gabriel sighed and sat down on it to pull off his handmade shoes. He pulled up his legs, shuffled a little and stretched out. Resting his head on the soft pillow, it was comfortable, he’d give it that. The Messenger closed his eyes and quickly found out that, yes, Beelzebub was sleeping.

His body in her dreams had its eyes closed as well and it felt like they were kissing, but far more intently than the perfectly _innocent_ kisses they had shared before. It was far wetter, too. And the anatomy was somehow wrong.

Gabriel opened his eyes and had to orient himself. He was kneeling in front of Beelzebub who sat on a softly cushioned dark red velvet armchair. Naked. With her legs on Gabriel's shoulders and her sex pressed to his mouth.

"Don't stop." She groaned and bucked her hips into him. "I was so close, you fucking tease."

Gabriel drew back to get a better look at her. Oh _Lord_ , she was quite a sight. Her cheeks and chest were flushed, her pink nipples drawn into tight little nubs. Her stomach seemed to be twitching involuntarily every few seconds and she couldn't hold still, her hips kept rolling in his direction. Her labia were red and swollen with arousal, glistening from how wet she was, partially from Gabriel's saliva. The angel wiped at his chin.

Beelzebub locked her right calf behind his head and pushed him back towards her sex. "If you start talking now I _will_ discorporate you."

Disobedience was out of the question judging by the way she pinned him with her intimidating blue eyes.  
He slowly lowered his head back between her legs, keeping his eyes on her face. He knew the basics, he had seen it at some point in his long life but, naturally, he had never done this.

Gabriel licked between her hot lips and received throaty a moan in return. Her head lolled back and she gripped the armrests. 

"The Messenger's tongue, all for me." Beelzebub sighed and pushed a hand into his hair.

Gabriel was thankful for it, she helped him find the pace she needed. He didn't have to worry about pressure either, she took what she wanted from him. All Gabriel had to do was to keep his tongue moving. 

That wasn't enough, though, was it? His streak of pride got the better if him, and he reached up with his arms to wound them around her thighs, spreading them further apart. He pulled her closer towards him, halfway off the armchair, giving her less leverage on him. This way her pleasure depended on the angel, not on herself.

"Fuck, Gabriel!" Beelzebub gasped and tightened her grip on his hair. 

He was doing something right, Beelzebub was twitching against his mouth. He put more focus on her clit, circling it with his tongue before dipping back down to her entrance, licking into it before dragging his tongue back up to the bundle of nerves. Beelzebub pushed into him as best as she could, her breathing turned ragged. She was biting her lip to keep quiet.

"Let me hear you." Gabriel breathed against her mound but got right back to lapping at her clit.

It took a few seconds, but then Beelzebub relaxed and the loveliest obscene sounds dripped from her lips. She let loose, crying out when she came, her fingers trembling while they dug into Gabriel's scalp and the armrest.

Considering his work done, the angel tried to pull away, but Beelzebub kept him in place. "No, no, no, no, _please_ , keep going."

He did, pressing harder against her swollen bundle of nerves, keeping his tongue flat and firm. The demon kept shaking, crying out once more, another orgasm tearing through her. This time, Gabriel didn't pull away, but pushed on, sucking at her clit rigourously. She hissed as a third climax shook her and her tight hold on his hair started to falter. The angel kept going, throwing her into a fourth and fifth orgasm before she began to pet his hair.

"It's ok. It's ok. You can stop." She wheezed, trying to catch her breath.

He did not stop. One more. Meeting be damned, he wanted to taste this gorgeous demon losing herself in pleasure on his tongue one more time. It took a while, but he wrung it out of her, absolutely enthralled with how she had to blink against tears as she fell apart for him. 

Gabriel placed a kiss on her hot mound before he sat back on his heels to absorb the captivating display of the mess she was now, panting, chest glistening with sweat, cheeks flush, and eyes shining brightly as she looked at him.

"Heavens, _fuck_." Beelzebub wiped at her wet eyes with a husky laugh. "This was worth being late for." She leaned forward, took his face in both hands and kissed his forehead. "Thank you."

With that, the dream was gone, and Gabriel found himself back in the hotel room's bed, the front of his suit trousers darkened and sticky. He buried his rapidly heating face in the pillow and swore an unholy streak.

When he had lain down his intention was to make her come. Come _to the meeting_ , that was. Not like _that_. 

His corporation felt so strange now, not bad, but… hot, exhilarated, almost like after after a jog. His skin was much more sensitive at the moment, everything seemed a little brighter. His stupid corporation did have an orgasm and he wasn’t even here to experience it himself. Gabriel groaned with frustration and went into the small bathroom to splash cold water into his face. How could he possibly wiggle his way out of _this_ if Beelzebub ever found out? 

Someone knocked at his door. 

Gabriel froze. 

“One moment please.” He called out, snapped his fingers to clean up his trousers and their moist contents. It surely was reeking of sweat and, well, other bodily fluids in here. Gabriel almost leapt to the balcony door to air out the room, the smell of the blooming red geraniums and lavender instantly flowing in.

After a quick glance into the mirror beside the coat rack and another small miracle to fix his dishevelled hair, he unlocked and opened the door.

“Oh, hi, Beelzebub.” Gabriel fumbled to casually lean against the doorframe. “What are you doing here?”

She wasn't wearing her usual outfit but a pair of black suit trousers with pinstripes and a white blouse. No accessories, no ribbons, no sash. He himself was only in his suit trousers and shirt, top two buttons of it open so he could cool down. Which wasn't happening now with Beelzebub in front of him. 

“You weren't down in the restaurant, so I asked around. Turns out you have the room next to me.” She explained. 

“You have a room?” Gabriel gulped. They had been _so close_ in the real world while they had met in her dream. 

“To nap in, yeah." The demon shrugged. "Far more comfortable than Hell.”

“Do you nap here often?” Heavens, he was tripping his way through the conversation. She was right to think he’s stupid.

“Here in Prague?” She asked, blue eyes wandering to his open balcony door. “No, I nap wherever work takes me.” Her eyes were back on his. Again, he felt his face blush.

 _Where I take you_ , Gabriel thought to himself. “Do you, uhm, want to come in?”

There was a small pause before she answered. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, _that_ happened. And of course, Gabriel is a notorious overperformer. 
> 
> Up next: 06 - Dragon ♥


	6. Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had to tell her that her books were with him, that she hadn't lost them. She surely was already asleep as she had left his room yawning. Gabriel got into his hotel room’s bed, telling himself that this was a reasonable way to inform her about her missing possessions.
> 
> When he drifted into her dream, things didn’t go as he had anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about something new? You’ll see what I mean. 
> 
> Enjoy!

  


###  ●●●●●●○ 06 DRAGON○○○○○○○ 

  


Ever since that incident in Prague, Gabriel made room reservations instead of booking a table at a restaurant. Paris, Moscow, Nagoya, Hawaii, La Paz, Kaptstadt, Mumbai, he scheduled meetings all over Earth.

Why? _Roomservice_. 

As it turns out, humans delivered food directly into hotel rooms in exchange for money, which the Catholic church was providing in abundance. Wherever they went, Gabriel would hand Beelzebub the menu and observe what she chose, mentally taking notes on her preferences. Depending on climate and weather they’d sometimes even sit outside on a balcony, soaking up the sun while talking business. Or, rather, Gabriel talked animatedly and Beelzebub listened, enjoying her meal. This type of meeting was far more private than anything Gabriel had done before. There were fewer ears to worry about, making him curse every once in a while to Beelzebub’s delight. The plan had been to have _her_ relax more, but it affected him as well, he could not deny it.

The Archangel had set up their next meeting in a hotel room in Marbella. It had a lovely view over the coastline, the sound of waves was a subtle background to their talks. He was ordering room service on the telephone for the demon, still bent on keeping her comfortable. A platter arrived with various tapas, small potatoes with a pungent white cream, bits of salmon with sesame, fried vegetables, meatballs in a hot smelling sauce, strips of dark meat and jalapenos. This assortment of morsels seemed most enjoyable to the prince of Hell, she could pick and choose and ate most with her bare fingers, licking them clean every now and then. 

Gabriel had to fight the urge to feed her, keeping his itching hands busy with typing. Would she lick his fingers clean as well? He should not entertain such thoughts! But it was hard, no pun intended, after that last salacious dream he had been a part of. Since then he was on his best behaviour, staying out of Beelzebub’s slumbering mind. This doesn’t mean that Gabriel didn’t wonder what she might be dreaming about, if he was there again, as he was every single time he had witnessed. Was he serving her pleasure in them, still? Did she enjoy seeing him on his knees? What else did she do to him? Oh, he wanted to know, badly, and it made his corporation's blood pool in his groin. 

The Archangel crossed his legs and shook his head to banish any and all raunchy thoughts about the demon Prince. 

So here they were, lounging on modern armchairs at a small table filled with food and books, their recent focus. Maybe there was something hidden in them, something no prophecy had included, that could explain their immunity. Aziraphale’s collection was vast and covered most genres, but he seemed particularly interested in romance. The more tragic the love story, the higher the chance that the first edition, preferably signed, found its way into his bookshop. 

It was rather unnerving how Beelzebub seemed to get the reasoning behind it, while Gabriel himself struggled to find any form of fiction interesting enough.

"Why should I get invested in something that isn't the truth?" He asked her, finding the sheer concept a waste of time. 

"Because through the story it can be experienced vicariously. It's called _empathy_. Does that word ring any celestial bells?" She cocked a challenging brow at him but he knew better than to take her bait. She took his silence as her cue to continue her explanation. "The protagonist's struggle becomes yours. Or your own is projected to them, making their path to overcome it an example for you."

Gabriel set his book down to meet her blue eyes. "Are you telling me Aziraphale read all these romance novels because going through the pain of heartbreak over and over _helped_ him?"

The demon broke their eye contact and flipped a page. "With his feelings for Crowley, yes."

Gabriel huffed. It still made no sense to him. "But we know for a fact that Crowley loved him back for millennia."

Beelzebub sighed and let her own book drop into her lap. "Crowley was out of Aziraphale's reach until the world didn't end."

Fuck. _You're not out of my reach here_. She had said to him in a dream. What did the demon really feel for him? It couldn’t be love, that was reserved for Crowley, the Serpent was the exception that confirmed the rule. He was why Beelzebub was here, trying to help him to re-define that rule to know why Crowley was able to feel and do what he did. 

Gabriel's job, in turn, was, all things considered, to find out how Aziraphale was able to be in love with Crowley, romantically, most likely even intimately. 

"I think," Gabriel started but then struggled to order his train of thought. What was _he_ feeling, for her? He regarded the petite Prince as she played with the pendant of her necklace, a delicate version of her sigil made from silver. He liked what she was wearing, a black sleeveless blouse with a ruffled low neckline paired with suit trousers that just reached past her knees. She wore black leather mules with red soles, most likely Louboutins. Of course, she was also wearing her fishnet socks. The strange fashion statement made Gabriel roll his eyes affectionately. It was ridiculous what she made him feel. Absolutely ridiculous. He wanted Beelzebub to be comfortable around him, to watch her enjoy the food that he had passively provided with his meticulous choice of restaurant and adjacent hotel. It was satisfying to know that she'd sleep in a warm and clean bed to relax from Hell's chaotic business. He _longed_ to kiss her, to touch her and make her feel good. It dawned on Gabriel that he cared enough about Beelzebub that he wanted to take care of her, demon or not. Everything he felt for her was highly unprofessional and out of the question, given their opposing factions. "I _think_ I'm starting to understand."

A tentative and flustered smile tugged at the corners of Beelzebub’s lips, and the sight made his stomach tingle and heart fling itself into a rapid beat. It couldn’t be, he couldn’t be falling in love with her! But then, in that moment, she tugged a black strand of unruly hair behind her ear, bit her lip and lowered her gaze back to her book, and the sight just did him in.

Oh _fuck_. 

Later that day, way after the sun had set and the moon was reflecting on the ocean, Beelzebub left. She forgets two of her books, a three centuries-old leather-bound copy of the Nibelungenlied and a cheap paperback of a fantasy novel, depicting a classic damsel in distress being rescued by a muscular and oiled up charming man on its cover, shirt open and exposing his firm chest and stomach. The hero looked quite a bit like himself, Gabriel noticed with a smug smile. Is this how she saw him? How flattering.

He had to tell her that her books were with him, that she hadn't lost them. She surely was already asleep as she had left his room yawning. Gabriel got into his hotel room’s bed, telling himself that this was a reasonable way to inform her about her missing possessions.

When he drifted into her dream, things didn’t go as he had anticipated. He was wearing the same outfit as the man on the cover, his shirt hanging open around his body and linen trousers low on his hips. He was ok with _that_ , but his body hung from chains. In a cave, above a plentiful pile of gold and fist-sized jewels. 

What the Hell was happening?

Gabriel pulled out his wings to ease the strain on his arms, the hard metal was already breaking the skin on his wrists. He jerked his arms, but the cuffs didn’t budge. Gabriel snapped his fingers to free himself, nothing happened. Dread rolled in cold waves down his spine. Had he angered Beelzebub, was this his punishment? What did he do?

His thoughts were interrupted by a roar booming from the depth of the cave. Thundering steps shook the ground, making the links of his chains klink.

“You’re awake.” Gabriel rather felt than heard the words, the low pitched voice was so loud it rattled his entire being. It was nothing when compared to getting yelled at by God, but impressive nonetheless. 

A large face of a gargantuan winged lizard appeared before him, red eyes glowing with reflected light, scales shimmering in a dark teal tone. 

“Hi.” Gabriel instinctively greeted with a conciliatory smile. “Would you happen to know why I’m in chains?”

The beast’s snout came closer, sniffing him. “You bleed gold, little angel.”

“Little?” Gabriel huffed. He was positive he was _not_ little, by any meaning. “I’m the Archangel fucking Gabriel.”

“Are you now.” The dragon’s laugh rumbled in Gabriel’s lungs while it circled around him. “My little gem thinks it has a name.” The beast purred and poked at his side with one of its massive claws, painfully piercing his skin, making Gabriel hiss.

“Oh, don’t be afraid, I’m not going to kill you.” The dragon’s tongue lapped at the angel’s blood that coated the tip of its claw. “You’re immortal, and I plan to keep you _delicacy_ around for a while.” The dragon hummed. “A millennia or two, at least.” 

“No you fucking won’t.” Gabriel heard being shouted from the entrance of the cave. That imperious tone, the underlying buzz, it had to be Beelzebub! He tried his best to turn towards her, pivoting on his restraints. 

There she stood, dressed in a form-fitting armour of dark leather and intricate chainmail that left her surprisingly toned midriff fully exposed. She had a red cape fixed to her left shoulder plate imitating her usual sash. She was twirling a dagger with one hand, smirking with self-confidence. It was a damn good look on her. 

The dragon disagreed, obviously. “You insolent insect!” It bellowed before raising its long neck that started to glow an angry orange. Flames bubbled from between its fangs and seconds later it blew a column of fire straight at the demon.

Beelzebub didn’t even flinch. She stood in the flames, cackling. “My armour and soul were forged in Hellfire, asshole. You can’t hurt me.” She widened her stance and took aim. “But I can hurt _you_.”

The dagger zipped from her hand and dug itself into the dragon’s right eye. It thrashed, clipping Gabriel with one of its wings, making him swing on his chains that tangled with his wings. 

“You fucker shouldn’t have taken what’s mine.” She yelled to be heard over the anguished roars while pulling a bow from her back and nocking a black-feathered arrow that quickly flew straight into the remaining good eye of the dragon. 

Blinded, it breathed flames in her general direction, which she languidly strolled through with an unimpressed and cocky smile. "You ok, angel?" She called out.

"I think so." Gabriel answered, trying to unravel. 

"The angel is mine!" the dragon bellowed, lowering its bleeding face to the ground, sniffing for Beelzebub.

"The fuck he is!" The demon cried out, manifested her ebony wings and took flight, easily soaring on the updraft the dragon had caused. "He is _my_ snack, not yours!" She declared and folded her wings to her back, diving for the dragon’s head with a sword tightly gripped in both hands. She rammed it through its skull and the beast went limp in an instant. Beelzebub spat at its brow and spread her wings again, making her way up to Gabriel. 

“Let’s get you out of here.” She said to the angel once they were face to face. She held one arm around his waist, pulling him flush against her, while her other reached for the chains that swiftly crumbled in her hand. 

Gabriel groaned with relief as the constant strain was gone from his shoulders. He spread his wings and clung to Beelzebub as she carried him back to the ground where she inspected the cut on his side, dabbing at it with a black handkerchief. It fucking _hurt_ as it was beginning to heal, sizzling with grace. 

This corporation was supposed to be bleeding red, but in this dream, he was something else, his blood a mix between his true form that would ooze purest light and the sanguine liquid of humans. 

“Are you going to eat me?” Gabriel asked, not entirely going for humour, he was wary of the entire fantastical situation. 

Beelzebub narrowed her eyes. “What makes you think that?”

"You called me a snack." He clarified but trailed behind her as she led the way outside, to a lush forest bathed in the soft light of the setting sun, the ground covered in bluebells wherever he looked.

"Oh, you’re _adorable_." Beelzebub cooed and poked at his pectorals while licking her lips.

That didn’t exactly answer his question, but he was getting the idea that the meaning of 'snack' had nothing to do with food. He fought the mental image of Beelzebub nibbling at his skin and flapped his wings to straighten his ruffled feathers. “Honestly, what just happened?” 

Beelzebub turned around and continued to walk backwards in front of him, her dark feathers glistening in the warm sunlight. She was _gorgeous_. “Your mother sent me to save you.”

Gabriel stumbled over a tree root on the footpath. “I’m sorry, _what_?”

Beelzebub laughed. “Believe it or not, but things have changed ever since the angel Aziraphale and the demon Crowley eloped. Their love stopped a war from tearing our nations apart.” She spread her arms and wings, gesturing widely at their picturesque surroundings. “This is a new world, Archangel, full of possibilities. A lasting peace could be secured.”

“ _Peace?_ ” Gabriel gaped at her. Peace had never been an option!

The demon nodded and turned to walk beside him. “My King Lucifer and your God Empress aren't going after the wayward lovers. Not that anyone has told me that peace is an actual possibility, but what else could be the reason?” She shrugged and let the primaries of her wing caress his back. “But it’s why I am here, to rescue you, which was considered _impossible_ , I might add. In return, I am promised your hand, my dear Gabriel.” A black wing curled around his shoulder, urging him to step closer. She gently took his hand and bowed down to place a kiss on his knuckles, keeping her mischievous eyes locked with his. 

A loud ringing sound pierced violently into the dream and tore it apart. Gabriel sat up in his bed at the same time he heard a loud crash in the neighbouring room. 

What does a demon want with an angel's hand?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say ~~Damsel~~ Himbo in Distress Gabriel and Hero Beelzebub is my fucking favourite thing now. I should make him a bard. 
> 
> ♪ Toss a coin to your demon ♫ 
> 
> Up next: 07 - Flip ♥


	7. Flip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The menu says they have an all you can eat buffet every Friday.”
> 
> Gabriel laughed. “For humans, not exactly for your appetite.”
> 
> She flipped him off but smiled. It did things to him, making a warm wave rush through his chest and belly, and he had to smile back. “You wanker don’t eat at all, you’ll balance things out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel goes full himbo, and the most bashful flirting ensues. 
> 
> ~~I'll apologize in advance for any typos and grammatical errors. It's almost midnight for me and I just finished this beast of a chapter ten minutes ago. I'll proofread again tomorrow morning.~~ I think I managed to salvage this mess!
> 
> Enjoy!

  


###  ●●●●●●● 07 FLIP ○○○○○○○ 

  


Gabriel flipped the page. Not a single book about demons or anything occult could tell him what a demon could possibly want with the hand of an angel. There was no word on a curse, a ritual, a summoning. Nothing.

Hand of a demon, though? There was plenty on that. Gabriel didn't know if he was supposed to feel offended or not. But the idea that anyone would dare to even try and cut off one of Beelzebub's delicate hands? That definitely made anger boil in his gut. 

He sighed in defeat, slapped the book shut and dropped it onto the small table on his hotel room balcony. He liked this place, he had to admit. The entire balcony was framed in a white railing topped with lavender flowers ranging from dark blue to pastel violet and even some in white and light pink. The pool of the hotel was on the other side of the building; therefore, his room and the space outside was doused in quiet. A few birds were singing, a bee buzzing among the flowers, a light breeze rustling the curtains. Beelzebub would like this, wouldn't she?

Well, enough with the sunbathing and daydreaming. The Prince would arrive anytime between now and the next two hours, depending on her mood. With a wave of his hand, his books vanished, sorting themselves back into his recently conjured bookcase of his office. Gabriel picked his short-sleeved shirt back up and buttoned it. 

Summer in Spain was _hot_. It forced Gabriel to dress down from his beloved suits into a more casual style. He wore grey knee-length trousers with a neatly pressed crease, a light lavender coloured shirt with no tie. His leather floaters were of a light sand tone, a wing etched into the leather of each sandal. He didn't look bad, he obviously _never_ looked bad, he just wasn't used to this. He was showing so much skin! Gabriel felt just as scandalised as he was excited. 

Later, when Beelzebub had entered his room, he didn't feel underdressed anymore. She had chosen something more casual as well, wearing a black blouse with ribbon details on her collar and sleeves and dress _shorts_ , with knee-high fishnet stockings leading into black budapester shoes, artfully perforated. 

But the blouse, oh Heavens. Only the front was of a solid colour, everything else was sheer. Gabriel couldn't quite clearly see if she was wearing a sports bra or an actual bralette underneath, but no matter which it was, she looked stunning. Before he could think twice about it, the words were out of his mouth. 

"You look nice." Gabriel said, already hitting himself mentally for using the dull and undescriptive term. 

"Thanks, I guess?" Beelzebub leaned back, cocked a hip, and gave him a nonchalant once-over. "You, on the other hand, look like a tourist."

"I succeeded at blending in with the humans, then." The angel said, quite proud of himself. 

"I'd rather have you blend in with me." The demon quipped in a teasing tone. 

Gabriel gestured at himself. "You don't like this?"

Her eyes lingered on his bare calves. Gabriel shifted his weight to let the muscles bulge. "No, this is fine." Beelzebub said and dragged her eyes away to take in the room and view from the glass door leading outside. 

"Seriously, Gabriel, who is paying for this?" she asked him while a dozen flies already zoomed past the angel to the flowers on the balcony. 

"Catholics." Gabriel said with a shrug, basking in the happy little snort she made.

"It's _my_ job to punish the morally corrupt, be careful." There was mirth in her eyes, she really was in a good mood today and Gabriel would do anything to keep it that way. 

"Are you hungry?" He asked, eager to please her, already making his way to the phone. 

"Could we go to the restaurant?"

Gabriel stopped in his tracks and turned towards her. "Not interested in room service?"

"Well, yes, but a sign outside says they have an all you can eat buffet every Friday." She licked her lips, of course, she'd be looking forward to something like that.

"It's for humans, not exactly for _your_ appetite." Gabriel grinned. 

She flipped him off but smiled. It did things to him, making a warm wave charge through his chest and belly, and he had to smile back. "You wanker don't eat at all, you'll balance things out."

 _Wanker?_ He had not touched himself! There had been a few close calls, ever since Prague, but he had pulled through and refrained from masturbation.

"What's this?" Beelzebub asked a curiously bashful question, pointing at his feet.

Gabriel looked down. Right, she didn't know about this. "My ornament." He wiggled his foot, the golden bracelet moving around his ankle. "Without a tie, my shirt doesn't cover the golden flecks on my neck anymore." A small pendant with his sigil lay on the arch of his foot.

She was quiet for a moment, then cleared her throat. "I really could use a snack."

"Right, restaurant." Gabriel said, unable to decipher what the sudden tension between them was all about. 

A distraction was needed.

They made their way downstairs, through the entry hall and into the restaurant that was generously decorated with green plants. 

"A table for two, please." Gabriel requested. He would have made reservations in advance if he had known she was interested in the buffet. Honestly, he _should_ have known, really, considering who exactly she was. 

"We're pretty packed at the moment as it's lunchtime. If you wouldn't mind a seat in the conservatory, you'd have all the privacy you need."

"What's the hook?" Beelzebub interjected before Gabriel could say anything. 

"It gets too hot for most patrons around noon." The waiter explained. "Our AC can't keep up this summer, I have to admit, but we've left a few windows open for fresh air."

“No such thing as _too hot_ for me.” The demon Prince laughed and looked at Gabriel expectantly. 

Whatever makes her happy, and it wasn't like he hasn't handled Holy Fire in the past. "Lead the way." 

The waiter smiled politely, grabbed two menus and gestured for them to follow. The hallway opened into a room with three walls and the entire room made from glass and wood. There were even more plants there, some hanging from the ceiling beams. There were no flowers, but Beelzebub's flies still spread out, exploring.

"This is nice." The demon stated, picking a table by the window.

That seemed to be her go-to expression when faced with something she liked, Gabriel pondered and took the seat across from her. 

"Should we bill it to your room?" The young man asked, digital note block in hand. 

"Yes, that'd be great." Gabriel nodded. "Room 501, please."

The waiter beamed at them and pressed a few buttons. "The honeymoon suite, I should have guessed."

Beelzebub looked at Gabriel, eyes wide. "He's kidding, right?"

The poor young man looked taken aback. 

"Why?" Gabriel asked, brows knit.

"The honeymoon suite, really?" Beelzebub crossed her arms, pinning him with a glare. 

"It has the most space and the finest decor." _Purple_ decor, white and golden accents and lavender along the balcony. Gabriel had instantly liked it when he saw the pictures online. 

“You pompous _fuck_.” Beelzebub rolled her eyes at him. 

"Do _you_ want to stay in my room for the night? It looks fit for royalty if you ask me." He gave her a diplomatic smile with just a little snark. 

"Gabriel, what the Heavens!" She hissed, eyes darting to the flustered waiter. 

"What? The bed is even bigger this time, I'm sure you'd enjoy it." The humidity of the room was getting to him, Gabriel had to open another button of his shirt. 

"Satan, help me." Beelzebub winced and sunk down in her chair, hiding behind the drinks menu she hastily picked up. 

"I'll take that as a yes." Gabriel raised his chin in victory. "It's not like I'll sleep, anyway."

“Just _stop_.” The Prince pleaded. 

"Let me take care of it." He assured her. She wouldn't have to worry about the paperwork, he'd handle it. There was no need to act so upset. 

Their waiter was somehow amused by their exchange and blushed. He took Beelzebub's order for an Irish tea, whyever she'd ask for _that_ when in Spain. He then told them the details about the buffet, where to get plates, cutlery and desserts. 

Gabriel watched her get up. She quickly turned around, but he still saw how her cheeks were pink, just like the waiter's. Was it the heat? His focus promptly dropped this train of thought as he watched her walk away. Her bum looked incredible on those shorts. Gabriel got up and followed her, to start filling a plate with whatever morsels and delicacies she liked. It had become a routine between them: Gabriel would order a meal as well and switch his full plate with her empty one when she was done.

He observed her, what she picked, what she frowned at, and loaded his plate accordingly. She didn't even check what he got her, she had stopped doing that about a month ago, and it made him feel proud. He was getting somewhere with her, but where exactly?

He regarded Beelzebub as she bent forward to grab a few slices of serrano ham for her honey melons. Her black hair fell into her face and she pushed it back behind her ears. 

She had cute ears, Gabriel noticed and frowned at himself. What was wrong with him today? His attraction to her was getting out of hand. 

"I like your longer hair." He commented. It was the second compliment that had slipped today. 

"I was thinking about letting it grow out," she answered and made her way back to their table, one of her flies already sucking on a piece of fruit on her plate, "and try something new."

"Why did you keep it short?" Gabriel asked, setting his own plate down in front of him as he took a seat. "Even I had long hair at some point when it was fashionable, but I don't think I've ever seen you with it."

"What was the point of letting it grow?" She frowned at him, swallowing a mouthful of chouriço. "We were preparing for war, Gabriel, there is no place for vanity in _war_ , not even for Hell."

He stayed quiet for a moment, enjoying how the bright noon sunlight reflected in her black strands. He did not know how she'd react to a third compliment, especially considering the nature of the word at the tip of his tongue that was begging to be spoken. He wanted to know, and curiosity, once again, won. "It looks cute."

No 'fuck off', no threats of violence, no demand to have him stop saying things like that. Just a smile while she averted her gaze and dug in. How _interesting_.

They, well, _she_ ate lunch in peace. At least on the outside. On the inside, Gabriel had a hard time containing his heartbeat, or the fluttery feeling in his stomach whenever she laughed at something he said. If she was laughing with him or at him, it wasn't always easy to tell, but the way the apples of her cheeks perked, it was the sweetest thing to him. 

In the hotel room, they went over the possible influence of theatre to the traitors for the rest of the day. As expected, Aziraphale loved the tragic romances such as Romeo and Juliet, while Crowley was mostly influenced by Westside Story and Grease. The two had enjoyed seeing shows ever since the Greeks had come up with it, more often than not attending together, always framing it as if it hadn't been a date, but by chance. 

As Gabriel had told Beelzebub during lunch, he left her the key to the honeymoon suite, in case she wanted to nap in the invitingly huge four-poster bed. It had at least half a dozen pillows of various sizes, a purple velour bed cover with soft white sheets underneath. Even Gabriel felt tempted to lie down in it.

After saying good-bye, the Archangel had returned to his heavenly office, where he had a quick chat with Micheal about his spendings that she decidedly did not know about. He busied himself with paperwork, the usual reports on miracles and blessings. Any form that wasn't filled perfectly went straight back to the slacking angels. He gave up after an hour or two, put his pen back in its case and paced along the window front. His eyes roamed Earth and its sights, his mind working on where to take Beelzebub next. 

What would she be dreaming about, after their day together, in that giant, soft bed? 

He shouldn't go back into her dreams. But then again, there were no rules against entering the dreams of a demon without permission. He wasn't breaking the law here, strictly speaking, only Beelzebub's trust, and demons didn't trust anyone by the principal, so he wasn't doing anything _wrong_ , specifically. Only if you squint. 

Baerly feeling the slightest pang of guilt, which he quickly ignored, Gabriel settled onto his chaise lounge, excited and curious about what he was about to see this time. 

And he was far from disappointed. 

The first thing he noticed was the smell of lavender, as if the flowers from the balcony reached Beelzebub even in her dream. The second thing was that he was naked, with his back against stacked pillows on the king-sized bed of the hotel room he had provided for the demon who was currently between his legs, with his cock in her mouth and _oh sweet Hell_! His eyes rolled back, this felt incredible. His hands bunched the sheets, a guttural moan leaving his lips. 

Beelzebub pulled back from his aching cock, gripping its base firmly. "You know the rule, Gabriel." 

"Remind me of it." He gasped, eyes transfixed on how her tongue circled his glans. 

"You don't come unless I tell you to." The tip of Beelzebub's tongue dipped into the slit. 

"I'm sorry?" Gabriel tried. Was this about him invading her dreams? Was he found out? What gave him away? Oh, it was hard to think when her teeth graced along the underside of his shaft. 

"Have some restraint." She licked back up his cock, gathering the drop of precum. "Be good for me and I'll make it good for you." 

Her lips wrapped around the head of his cock again and his member sunk into her mouth. It was hot and wet and he could feel her tongue swirling over the sweet spot right underneath his glans. 

_I'm not allowed to come_ , he told himself and took a deep breath. _I’m not allowed to come_.

He felt his abdomen twitch despite his best efforts as the demon's cheeks hollowed. This was too intense, too _new_. Beelzebub's gorgeous aquamarine eyes studied his expression, gauging his reaction and adjusted the intensity of her suction depending on how his muscles tensed under her free and roaming hand. Her fingernails on his abs, oh, good Lord. 

"You usually last longer, angel." Beelzebub huffed a little chuckle and stopped her ministrations, but pressed her tongue against the spot at the bottom of his glans again. 

"I'm sorry." Gabriel bit his lip, hands balling into tight fists, his fingernails pressing into his palm. "I can’t-- _fuck_." 

"Not yet.", she said after briefly retreating her mouth, but quickly her puckered lips were on him again, shuffling his already jumbled thoughts as Gabriel held on for dear life. She kept him pushed against the edge of what he expected to be his orgasm, only letting go for a few seconds each time he got too close. Gasping for air he endured the slow and meticulous upstrokes of her mouth that crowned in a harsh tongue flick against the head. 

He was so close, he could feel it, the heat that coiled in his lower abdomen, making him tremble with anticipation. 

_I'm not allowed to come_ , he repeated in his mind. 

Beelzebub pulled back, smirking at him. "You're so sensitive today." She sat up, pumping this cock maddeningly slow. "I'll have mercy."

"But you're a demon." Gabriel husked, trying to coerce the muscles in his thighs to unbunch. 

“ _Your_ demon.” The Prince straddled him, one hand still tightly wrapped around his cock, rubbing its head against her clit for her own pleasure. "Let me take care of you."

With that, Beelzebub let go and sank down on him, sheathing his cock inside her until she sat flush on his groin, the heat of her sex radiated onto Gabriel's skin. She was so incredibly warm inside and out, he mused, and he was sure he could feel her inner walls glide over his cock as she took his hands to lay them on her hips. He was so close, he wanted to cum, so badly, but at the same time he didn't. He wanted to cherish the feeling, the excitement, but also how pleased and admiring the demon was looking at him while she viewed the writhing mess he already was. 

The way Beelzebub felt around his cock, how she looked at him, it was just too much. The pressure that had built up, he was losing his battle against it. He needed release, he was desperate for it. Gabriel locked his jaw and felt his heart pound up to his throat. He'd hold back, for her, until she gave him permission. The Archangel heard himself _whimper_. 

Luckily, she then clenched herself around him. "Come." She ordered and Gabriel happily obeyed, fascinated with how blank his mind was for a short moment before he held on to her hips, thrusting up into Beelzebub for only an embarrassingly few times before his orgasm tore through him, making his entire body tense, abdomen spasming as he pulsing spurt after spurt into the beautiful demon who had locked her eyes with his, watching him intently through his climax, with a satisfied smirk on her reddened lips.

The joy she took from this was _obscene_. 

"You're still hard." She wondered out loud as he was slowly coming down from the afterglow of his orgasm, reaching down to feel for his cock. 

Gabriel bucked his hips, another surge of pleasure rushing through him. "I am."

She took a deep breath and gradually lowered herself down, bracing her arms next to Gabriel's head, her face tugged into the crook of his neck. "I like your new perfume." She said and nipped at his skin. It made his cock jerk inside her, causing her to clench around him in turn. 

Gabriel was still trying to get control over his breathing back. "Can I--"

"Please." Beelzebub keened, the sound of her voice making his hands move up her body to hold her against him. 

The angel pulled up his legs, feet flat on the mattress and pushed up into her, basking in the moan that spilt from her mouth. Oh, _fuck_. She felt so good, he couldn't stop his corporation from moving in and out of her wet heat. She rode him at a slow pace, grinding her hips down when Gabriel pushed up. 

He turned his head, nuzzling at the hair hanging over her forehead. She took the hint and, finally, after _months_ , she finally kissed him again him, deeply, languidly, pushing a hand into his hair. It was perfect. 

Gabriel flipped them around, turning Beelzebub onto her back. Her black hair was fanning out over the white sheets, her brilliant blue eyes once again locking with his. She was beautiful and open and _raw_. Then her eyes fell shut, her lips were back on his and she was moaning into his mouth. It was like nothing Gabriel had ever experienced. He couldn't get enough of this, being inside her, sharing a rhythm, the intoxicating sounds she made. 

The tongue of the demon Prince of Gluttony was tracing his teeth, and the realisation made his hips stutter. He slowed down again, he wanted to relish this, the intimacy, her scent and taste and little gasps when he got the angle just right. 

She grew eager after a while and locked her legs around his middle to meet his thrusts with vigour. Gabriel picked up speed when he saw the first telltale signs of Beelzebub's building orgasm. She was starting to shudder, breaking the kiss to suck in air. 

"Just like this." She panted, hands gripping at the angel's sweaty shoulders. “Fuck, _Gabriel_.”

Gabriel could feel her contract around his cock, her inner walls quivering. He kept his left hand on her hip to secure the angle that had just made her mewl, bracing himself on his right forearm as he pounded into her. 

Her back arched off the mattress and into Gabriel's chest as she came, groaning in ecstasy, gripping him impossible tight inside her. She was trembling, and dragged Gabriel right with her, making him come again, having him fill her even further, as deep as he could. The sheer bliss he felt, it was indescribable. They rode it out together, kissing between shaky breaths.

"I think," Beelzebub began, the words drawled from exertion. She gently nibbled at Gabriel's jawline and seemed lost in thought for a moment. "I think the real you is starting to like me.", she whispered as the dream started to fade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it, seven out of fourteen chapters done. Special thanks to my husband who provided me with insight into the male POV for this chapter's smut. 
> 
> Up next: 08 - Beach ♥


	8. Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beelzebub had written him a letter! It was her sigil that was pressed into the wax. Gabriel carefully opened it and pulled out a folded grey piece of paper with messy black writing. 
> 
> “Did you just _sniff_ it?” Ramiel chuckled at their superior. 
> 
> Gabriel felt a blush creep into his cheeks. “No?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse the ~~short~~ late update, but I’m having one hell of a rough day. All of this was written in about ~~two~~ five hours. 
> 
> Enjoy!

###  ●●●●●●● 08 BEACH ●○○○○○○ 

Gabriel hadn’t seen Beelzebub in weeks. Eight, to be precise. Eight weeks, two days and six hours, four if you counted the intimate dream he has slipped into. He knew better than to constantly check his phone and emails, but he still did, hoping against hope that there would be a message from her.

Nothing had changed, she still wouldn’t text or write to him. Gabriel sighed, worrying about the pain he felt in his chest. The longer he was away from her, the worse it got. But the late summer was busy for both of them. So many events to bless for Heaven, weddings to miracle the perfect weather for, parish fairs to organize. Or, in Hell’s case, so many events to curse, summer parties to inspire with Lust, Greed, Envy, and diets to break with Sloth and Gluttony. Beelzebub was so busy that she didn’t even take time off for sleep. At least that was what Gabriel had been told by Micheal and why he hadn’t set up another meeting. How the other Archangel knew that he didn’t ask. Not his department nor his concern. 

But as the calendar turned from August to September, Gabriel had started to feel _miserable_. He wanted to be with Beelzebub, not stuck up here in his white on white office, pushing papers, when he could be telling her that she was right, he did start to like her. Liking her wasn’t even his problem, _liking_ doesn’t cause this kind heartache if any of the literature in his bookshelf was to be believed. 

Gabriel was sure, there was no way to deny it, he was in love with her. And it _hurt_ like Hell. 

A knock on his door shook him out of his thoughts. He sat up from the chaise lounge he had been lying on and buttoned his suit jacket. “Come in.” 

“I have the files you requested.” Ramiel said in greeting and made their way to Gabriel’s desk. “Why are you looking into blessed gardens, though?”

“To find any connection between Aziraphale, Crowley and their melancholy of Eden. There could be a hint, about how they stopped the War.”

“I think they were just dating.” Ramiel mused while sorting the files into various stacks. “You’re giving them too much credit. If you ask me, they are idiots in love. I’ve seen it happen to humans millions of times.”

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. “I’m starting to believe you’re right.” 

“Where should I put the letter?” Ramiel asked.

“What letter?” Gabriel peered up at the Watcher who was holding a red envelope with a shimmering black wax seal in their hand. 

“The one from the Lord of Flies, Archangel.” before the sentence was finished, Gabriel had snagged it from Ramiel’s hand, his heart joyously hammering in his chest. 

Beelzebub had written him a letter! It was her sigil that was pressed into the wax. Gabriel carefully opened it and pulled out a folded grey piece of paper with messy black handwriting. 

“Did you just _sniff_ it?” Ramiel chuckled at their superior. 

Gabriel felt a blush creep into his cheeks. “No?” Yes, he absolutely had, and it smelled like brimstone and honey. He stepped back from the Watcher, unwilling to share. This letter was his, and his alone. 

“ _Gabriel_.” Ramiel teased, squinting with golden eyes at him. 

“What?” The Archangel snapped, the heat in his cheeks intensifying.

Ramiel smirked. “Nothing.” They bowed their head. “I’ll leave you to it.”

The moment the door clicked shut Gabriel dove back on his chaise longue, letter in hand, reading it while his chest kept swelling. She was asking to meet him, in Italy, a small coastal town with a beach and, according to Beelzebub, the most authentic stone stove pizza on Earth. Gabriel flipped the single sheet of paper, but there was nothing on the backside. 

There were no instructions on what papers or files to bring, only a request for swimwear. This wasn’t about work. Beelzebub just wanted to ... meet him? Spend time with him?

Gabriel put a hand on his stomach, trying to calm the intense fluttery feeling inside, with little success. His hands felt clammy, every limb was tingling. Fuck, what was happening to him? 

He tucked the letter back into the envelope and put it into the top drawer of his desk. The angel then went into the spacious and well-organized dressing room of his office. It was filled with every outfit he had ever commissioned and tailored, anything that he had bought in his long life was here. Michael would never stop teasing him about his collection, but even she had to admit that it was handy. No matter where he had to go, he’d be dressed perfectly for the occasion and local culture. 

But he did not own _swimwear_ , the concept was historically too new and rarely needed anyway.

He glanced at his watch. Three hours until Beelzebub’s suggested meeting time was plenty to take a gander at the haute couture of beach fashion in Miami. It wouldn’t be custom made and hugging him just right in all the right places, but Gabriel was optimistic he’d find something adequate. 

A few hours later, beach towel in hand and underwear switched for swim trunks, Gabriel barely made it in time to Italy, his lightning cracking the very second he was supposed to arrive. To his surprise, she was already there. Was the Prince only punctual when she set the time and place herself? He’d gladly let her take the lead on that if his hunch was true. 

He wanted to say as much, but when he actually _looked_ at her, the words got stuck in his throat. Beelzebub wore a sleeveless soft linen jumpsuit in black with a narrow cut at the top leading into a stand-up collar. On her small feet were the mules she had worn before, black leather and red soles. 

“You look great.” The angel blurted. 

Beelzebub cocked a brow at him. “Did you bring something for the beach?” Her eyes were roaming his body. He wore a short-sleeved shirt again, cotton white with a discreet feather print, paired with grey twill shorts and flip-flops. Those were the appropriate shoes for the beach, right? 

“Yes, underneath these shorts.” Gabriel said. “I had to cut corners to be punctual.”

“Too proud to run late for a good reason?”

“Well, yes. You know I value coming on time.” Gabriel wrung the rolled-up towel in his hands. 

“Oh, I _know_.” She gave him a smug leer. The way she said those words, he wasn’t all that sure if she was talking shop or alluding to something more sexual. “Let’s go.” She said and flung her own towel over a shoulder.

Only now Gabriel took the time to view his surroundings. The town was built _upwards_ along the cliffside, quaint houses painted white, yellow or any shade of red. There were flowers _everywhere_ and flies were orbiting Beelzebub while she walked, zipping from one bloom to another, circling back to her and repeating the process over and over.

What were those flies, exactly? Insects that followed the demon’s wishes, like familiars, or an extension of her being? How many could she summon at once? 

Gabriel trotted behind her, his mind relentlessly rambling about the nature of the gorgeous demon in front of him. 

“How are you, by the way?” She asked over her bare shoulder and slowed down to walk beside him. 

“I, uhm, “Gabriel frowned a little. He could allow himself to say it, right? There was no one here to judge him but her. “I missed you.” He ventured, despite his inexplicable nervousness. 

“Did you now.” She smiled at him and his heart skipped a beat. “We have a couple of hours to unwind. No talk about work, just kick back and relax, angel.” 

They arrived at the beach, spread their towels on the sand and slipped off their shoes. Beelzebub proceeded to reach for the back of her collar and undid the poppers, letting the jumpsuit slide down her body and pool around her ankles. 

“Shouldn’t you, well--” Gabriel vaguely gestured at his own chest. 

“What?” Beelzebub was wearing bikini bottoms in a hipster cut with fishnet details on the sides. The bare lower half of her round cheeks looked as if they’d perfectly fit into his cupped hands. The thing was, it was the _only_ thing she was wearing. She gazed down at her body. “Oh, right,” she said, reached up and kneaded her breasts, “I got those when the world didn’t end.” She pinched her own nipples, making them perk up as tight nubs. 

Gabriel swallowed. This should not be an issue. He was an angel. He was love, he was grace, he was modesty and sobriety. He was the Archangel fucking Gabriel and those beautiful breasts should _not be an issue_. Fuck, what would they feel like in his hands? Under his _tongue_? He took a deep breath of sea air to focus. He was here to-- well, what exactly? Unwind? Go for a swim? With Beelzebub, who was eyeing him mischievously. 

“How did you decide on that Effort?” Gabriel asked, trying to remain objective while he unbuttoned his shirt. 

“I thought the Antichrist would listen to a woman. Human children tend to trust them, it was worth a try.” She explained and watched him undress. “By the way, _golden_ pinstripes? Seriously?” She pointed at his latest purchase, white trunks with the aforementioned pattern. 

“I like the aesthetic.” Gabriel huffed. 

He could tell she had an insult ready, but they were interrupted by a middle-aged man wearing some sort of ill-fitting guard uniform. “Miss, this is a family-friendly public beach, please dress accordingly.” 

Beelzebub hooked a finger into her bikini bottoms and was threatening to pull them down. 

“Good Lord, Beel- _Bella_ , that’s not what he meant!” Gabriel interjected hastily.

“I know.” She smirked at him, then turned to the man. “How many rules am I breaking?” 

“With that attitude? All of them.” The man snarked at her, much to her delight. 

Beelzebub had a manic smile on her lips and started to walk backwards and towards the water. She raised her arms and yelled. "Emancipation, fuckers, free the nipple!"

The guard turned to Gabriel for help, but the angel only shrugged and pointed a thumb at the cackling demon who plunged into an upcoming wave. “What she said."

“Sir, I must insist--”

"But what about the tan lines?" Gabriel cut in, using his streak of vanity for his reasoning. “We can’t have her walk around with an uneven tan.” 

“She’s making the tourists uncomfortable.” The man crossed his arms. It was by no means imposing. 

“Have you _looked_ at her?” Gabriel laughed and let his eyes follow the happy demon splashing about. He’d never seen her be this playful, and he’d stop anyone who’d get in the way of it. "Tourists are strange.", he said with exasperation and joined her in the water. 

They hadn’t been bothered afterwards and were left to their own devices, diving, swimming, dunking each other under. It was _fun_. After a while, they went back to their towels and lay down. Gabriel, on his back with his arms behind his head, let the sun soak into his skin. Beelzebub was on her belly, with a small pile of sand under her towel as a makeshift pillow. She was yawning. 

“Are you falling asleep?” Gabriel asked, fascinated with her softened features when her eyes fell shut. 

“Just a quick nap, I still want that pizza.” She yawned again. “Wake me up in half an hour?” 

“I will.” Gabriel promised and watched her doze off. He turned onto his side to regard her, how her black eyelashes lay on her cheeks, the salt-matted strands of her hair clinging to her neck and shoulders, the dip of her back before it rose into her perky bum. He could lie here and look at her for half an hour, enchanted and endeared. 

Or he could take a careful peek into her nap’s dream. It was dangerous, with her being right next to him, but he wanted to know what was on her mind. He pulled his phone from his shorts and set an alarm, then settled back down. 

Just a little peek, nothing more. 

When he entered her dream all he saw was darkness. Well, not quite, there were shapes. He was at a beach with black sand, black water lapping at the shore, with a dome of blackest sky above him. He remembered this, obscurely, from a time before time. There was a spot of white standing in the water, and he made his way to it. 

It was an Archangel, he realized, those were wings, three pairs of them. But where was Beelzebub? He approached the celestial.

“Hello there?” He called out. The angel turned around and bright blue eyes found his. It couldn’t be! “Beelzebub?”

“Who?” The angel frowned at him and shook her wings. Water dripped off the primaries, but it wasn’t pure black anymore, it was laced with shimmering spots. The angel dipped both hands down into the surrounding water and splashed it up into the sky. 

“What are you doing?” Gabriel asked. He could _feel_ that he has seen this before, but he couldn’t remember. 

“I don’t know.”, the angel said, carding feathers through the water over and over again. “Muscle memory, I guess.” Reaching up, the sky came alive with stars. 

Gabriel watched in awe. “Do you know your name?” He asked, quietly.

"I'm trying to remember, but I can't." The angel’s face contorted in pain. “I _can’t_.”

"Neither can I." Gabriel admitted. He knew her, this version of her, he was sure of it. 

"Of course not, you're just in my head." The artist in front of him sighed, defeated. Hands pressed into the darkness, weaving galaxies with delicate fingers. 

_Raphael. She was Raphael!_ Gabriel thought, but as soon as he tried to pronounce the name it burned on his tongue. He quickly retreated from her dream, too scared he’d hurt her as well if he probed any further. But the very moment he blinked against the sunlight of the real world, the name was wiped from his memory yet again. 

_Fuck._

Gabriel groaned and rubbed at his face. The demon next to him was still sleeping peacefully and he settled on watching over her and replying to a couple of messages on his phone. 

“I said _no work._ ” He heard Beelzebub grumble when she stirred, one eye open and squinting at him. 

“Pizza?” Gabriel asked, putting the offending business-related device away after switching off the alarm. 

“Pizza!” Beelzebub got up and stretched, her belly’s taut line leading up to her small and firm breasts. The Prince picked up her jumpsuit and dressed, Gabriel followed suit.

As it turns out, _real pizza_ , as Beelzebub insisted, was a very simple dish. Flat dough, tomato sauce, olive oil, mozzarella cheese and herbs. No toppings, especially no pineapple.

She was leaning her head on one hand, nibbling at the crescent of the crunchy crust. “You called me Bella, at the beach.”

“I did.” Gabriel confirmed, not sure why she’d bring it up now.

“Why?” She prodded, her expression unreadable as her eyes searched his. 

“Well, this is Italy, it’s a common nickname.” Gabriel shifted in his seat. “I can’t keep calling you Beelzebub among humans.”

Beelzebub’s eyes narrowed while she seemed to consider her next words. “Are you sure you weren’t just flirting with me?” 

Gabriel blinked, cleared his throat and gave her a conciliatory smile. “Wouldn't that be unprofessional?” 

“That's not a no.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beelzebub is the cheekiest flirt. Can anyone _confirm_ that this is progress? 
> 
> And she was Raphael, fight me. 
> 
> Up next: 09 - Dance ♥


	9. Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, today I’m really posting a shorter chapter. I finally had to take some time to relax and unwind after a very strange and stressful and scary week. 
> 
> Enjoy!

  


###  ●●●●●●● 09 DANCE ●●○○○○○ 

  
Beelzebub thought he was flirting with her. She also thought he liked her, which she had only told him in a dream.

She wasn’t wrong, not at all, but for once Gabriel had no clue how to handle information, where to go with it. How is he supposed to _tell_ her that she wasn’t wrong? 

Gabriel nervously bit his lip, thinking back to their day at the beach. Why had she invited him? She could have used her short frame of free time to simply go sleep, he knew she liked that. But she had contacted him, asked to see him, instead of just dreaming of the Archangel. 

Was she hoping to do the things from her dreams to him, the real Gabriel? Reaching for his hand, letting the angel feed her, kissing him, falling into intimacy and pleasure? Was this truly an option for them? 

And wasn’t Gabriel supposed to say no to all those things? It’d be fraternization, he’d be compromised. But then again, there was no war and they were partners in an investigation. She wasn’t exactly his enemy anymore, not when considering the current agreement between Heaven and Hell. 

Gabriel sighed, leaned back in his office chair and looked over to the collection of books on his shelf. How does one admit their feelings without making a fool of themselves? How does one know, beforehand, if the other was returning the affection?

For humans, it was always taking a chance, venturing into the unknown, but they also had such short lives, leaving them with little choice. He was immortal. Gabriel could probe Beelzebub’s mind for centuries, take her on hundreds of dinners and read every book and love and romance to prepare a speech, but _nothing_ would ever tell him if she was able to love him back. She was a demon Prince, his enemy of six millennia, the adversary to his heavenly actions. 

But she was also inviting him to have pizza with her, simply for the company, because she enjoyed it. 

Where to go from here?

Gabriel groaned, sat up straight and rolled his shoulders to relax. His laptop chimed, announcing that a meeting proposal had been accepted. 

His heart lept against his ribs. The garden of lilies in Sapporo, in just two days! The place had been blessed by Aziraphale when he had been in Japan in the early 2010s, meeting Crowley there ‘by chance’, every day, for two weeks. A load of bullshit and lies. 

But he could understand now. The possibility of spending two weeks with Beelzebub? He’d jump at that chance in a heartbeat. 

Oh, and his heart was _beating_ , relentlessly. 

Those two days passed insufferably slow, but once he stood at the entry gate of the garden, site map in his hand, and his eyes fell on the demon, he felt elated. Beelzebub wore a smart black suit, a white blouse underneath with a black polka dot pattern and a satin ribbon around her collar. 

And she was only seven minutes late!

As expected, Beelzebub seemed to enjoy the park. Her flies obviously did, roaming the wide fields of flowers, dipping into water lilies, crawling into callas, coating themselves with the trickling pollen of the asiatics. 

“Crowley blessed the garden, Aziraphale blessed the restaurant.” Gabriel explained while leaning against the railing of the path that led through rows upon rows of trumpet lilies. “And neither was tasked with any of it.” 

“Your rebellious principality didn’t bless the garden.” Beelzebub frowned at him. “You didn’t know?”

“No.” Gabriel shook his head. “How do you know?”

“Dagon. She wears the title Lord of Files for good reason.” Beelzebub said and pulled out her phone, tapping on it eagerly. “Crowley blessed the restaurant because he knows how much Aziraphale loves food. Aziraphale blessed the garden for Crowley because the old Serpent loves gardening in general.” 

She handed him her phone, the screen showing Dagon’s findings, including references to their cottage’s garden, a list of scientific plant names, their proclaimed emotional meaning, and care guidelines.

“So, they, uhm--” Gabriel struggled to find the reasoning behind all of this.

“They were taking care of each other.” Beelzebub stated and tipped her head, signalling him to follow her. “What’s your favourite flower, Gabriel?” 

“I’m not supposed to have one, angels are deemed to love all Her creation equally.” 

“Nonsense.” She said, obviously not buying it. 

She was right to do so, he did have a favourite flower. Also a favourite scent, a favourite way to spend his free time and a favourite _demon_. 

“What’s yours?” Gabriel asked, diverting from himself. 

“Stargazer lilies, actually.” Beelzebub smiled and spread her arms. She was surrounded by them, left and right. “The darker the better.”

Oh, this was why she had chosen this place from his suggestions! Gabriel’s hand may have slipped that moment, blessing a young woman of the garden’s staff who had dedicated her life to crossing black lilies with stargazers, inspiring her to make the pollen golden, so it'd look like stars in the night’s sky when dusted over the dark petals in full bloom.

“Why are _you_ associated with lilies, Gabriel?” The demon asked, poking at a pink flower in front of her. 

“Hell, if I knew.” Gabriel laughed. “Some artist decided to paint me with it, and the idea stuck with humans.” They even had depicted him gifting lilies to Mary upon Annunciation. It was completely made up, he did no such thing. He presented her with his God-given message about her impending holy pregnancy and left. 

“Maybe they had you mixed up with another angel.” Beelzebub suggested, licking pollen of her fingertip. “The lore about both our sides is all jumbled.”

_Just like our memories of anything before the Fall._

They went for dinner at the small restaurant located in the garden, taking a seat at a small table outside. While Beelzebub ate sushi with her fingers instead of chopsticks Gabriel updated her on all details of Aziraphale and Crowley’s upcoming wedding. Michael had even dug up the ring design for him, the current sketch consisting of a curling feather made half from gold and half tungsten. He had notes on the contents of the buffet, the centers pieces of the tables and their dancing lessons schedule.

“Dancing lessons?” Beelzebub interjected his casual presentation, a yakitori skewer dripping its honey-laced sauce onto her plate. 

“Yes, they are learning the waltz for their wedding day.”

“I thought Aziraphale already could dance.” She took a bite and licked her lips. “Unlike the rest of your lot.”

“He attempted to learn a handful of dances, yes, but you know humans have created innumerable styles.” Gabriel clarified.

“Do you think you could learn to dance?” The demon asked, sipping her tea. 

“Lord, no.” Gabriel rolled his eyes and adjusted his tie. "I'm not the type for frivolous flailing."

Beelzebub smirked at him. “It’s just a matter of training, Gabriel. Learn the moves and execute them to a rhythm.” She cocked a challenging brow at him. “Even you stiff old Archangel can do _that_.”

Unfortunately, the image of him dancing with Beelzebub stuck in his mind for the rest of the day, even when he was back in his office. He imagined his hand on her hip, her delicate hand on his strong shoulder, twirling and twirling. 

The best thing to get something _out_ of his mind was to get _into_ hers, right? She surely was asleep by now, she had mentioned she had the rest of the day off and would nap for a bit. 

“Get your shit together, Gabriel.” Was the first thing he heard from her in her dream. “You agreed that I’d lead.”

“Right, yes, sorry.” Gabriel apologized. They were dancing in her dream!

And she looked stunning in her swallowtail coat with a red shawl lapel. Her trouser legs were wide-cut and swayed elegantly with every motion. He looked down his own body and saw himself dressed in a fully white suit with a golden brocade vest underneath. 

“Trust me.” She held out a hand to her side and wiggled her fingers expectantly. “Come one, give me your right hand.” 

Gabriel did, and his left was guided to her shoulder, while hers lay on his hip. 

“Look at my feet and just mirror what I do.”

“Your shoes are nice.” Gabriel blurted out, making her snort. 

“You’ll have no trouble keeping an eye on them, then.” Beelzebub’s hand on his hip nudged him to move as the well known Austrian music began to play. 

Waltz. She was teaching him how to waltz. 

“Now, tell me, what is your gripe with lilies.” She said, slowly guiding him through a rhythm. 

_One two three._

“I don’t have a gripe with lilies.” Gabriel said, step by step repeating her movements.

_One two three._

“You just don’t like them?” Beelzebub asked, sounding intrigued, turning them to repeat the circle.

_One two three._

“I don’t see why humans keep connecting them with me. _That’s_ what I don’t like.” Gabriel explained, barely able to shift his weight and not stepping on her foot. 

_One two three._

“Hmm.” The demon pondered for a moment. 

_One two three._

“Tell me, Gabriel, what is your favourite flower, then?” She inquired and squeezed his hand a little.

_One two three._

He was part of her dream, he had to give Beelzebub an answer, so why not the truth? “Lavender.”

“Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this wasn't up to snuff, but it was all I could handle to write today. See you tomorrow for more!
> 
> Up next: 10 - Rules ♥


	10. Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let's talk about dating.” Beelzebub said, sitting cross-legged on Gabriel’s hotel bed, balancing a tray filled with snacks on her knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feeling better today as work was pretty chill, therefore this chapter should be up to standards again. 
> 
> Enjoy!

  


###  ●●●●●●● 10 RULES ●●●○○○○ 

  
Gabriel lasted a month without taking another trip into Beelzebub's dreams. When he entered her mind, his own instantly went blank as he was watching her naked, sweaty body enthusiastically bounce on his rock hard cock. Oh _fuck_ , how long had she kept his dream-woven body on edge, he couldn't hold back like this, _oh no_.

“You know the rule!” Beelzebub growled, sounding winded, her fingernails digging into the skin on his shoulders. She looked like she was close as well. It was too much, too sensual, too good.

“I can't, I can't--” Gabriel felt his abdomen get hot and tense up, he’d lose this fight in seconds. “Let me _break_ the rule, please.” He groaned, already submitting to his climax, gasping for air as it tore through him. He could feel himself filling the gorgeous demon on top of him and slowly then blinked his eyes open. She was biting her bottom lip, looking at him as if he were delectable. 

Beelzebub rocked her hips. “Fuck, Gabriel, you're still hard.” She mused, letting a hand wander between her legs to touch the base of his cock that spread her apart. Gabriel took the demon by her hips, held her up to buck into her, drinking in the moans spilling from her lips. It didn’t take long and she reached her own orgasm, quivering on and _around_ him. 

Gabriel’s mind went back to the dream when he had his mouth on her. He could make her come several times like this as well, right? All he had to do was to keep going. So he did, thrusting into her relentlessly, careening her into a subsequent second climax in no time. She was shuddering even hander this time, her thighs were giving out. 

“Come here.” Gabriel moved a hand up her back, pushing gently to have her lie on his chest. He angled his legs, kissed her forehead and set an unforgiving rhythm to make her come again. How many times would she let him do it? 

He did not take into account that his own body would give in at some point as well, leaving him shaking underneath her as his second orgasm rolled through him. She pushed into his thrust, taking his release as deep as she could, while taking his face in both hands to kiss him, deeply, only parting from his lips when a surprised moan broke from her mouth. 

“How are you _still_ hard?” She marvelled, nipping at his chin while pressing down flush on his cock, squeezing her inner walls around him. “Oh, fuck.”, she mewled. 

“For as long as you want.” Gabriel said, hellbent to make it the truth. He had no clue how long he could keep this up, and there was only one way to find out. 

“I'm the Prince of _Gluttony_ , be careful with your words.” Beelzebub gasped, letting herself be rolled onto her back, limbs all jittery when he got on top of her to push even deeper. 

“For as long as you want.” The angel repeated, kissing down the column of her throat, shallowly thrusting into her wet heat that kept contracting enticingly around him. “How much can you take?”

“Do your worst.” Beelzebub challenged him and hooked her legs around his middle. 

Gabriel spent several hours in her dream, making the beautiful demon come over and over and over again, filling her with his own cum until it was dribbling onto the sheets. It was messy, yes, but it was also all kinds of perfect. 

On the other hand, he had stayed long enough to miss a meeting with Micheal. He’d never hear the end of it.

A few days and innumerable icy stares by Micheal later, he made his way to Greece, to meet Beelzebub. Their rooms were of a darker wooden decor this time, and there was heather on the bedside table. Somehow, it suited them both, and the thought made him smile.

They were in Diomidous to visit another garden, a theatre and apparently several restaurants. They'd be staying for two days, Beelzebub for a third, now that Humans were preparing for Halloween and turned everything darker on their own account.

“Let's talk about dating.” Beelzebub said, sitting cross-legged on Gabriel’s hotel bed, balancing a tray filled with snacks on her knees. 

“What?” Gabriel's mouth felt dry but his palms experienced the reverse problem. Dating? Was she about to ask him out? Was their day at the beach a date? In retrospect, it quite looked like it. 

“The rules,” Beelzebub said, popping a fried cheese cube into her mouth, “of _engagement_ , so to speak.” 

"There are rules?" It had always looked quite chaotic from the outside. There were certain parts that created a common theme among humans, like sharing a meal, sharing the experience of a fictional story, giving gifts. But besides that? It varied from person to person, depending on culture, religious beliefs and intimate preferences. 

She shook her head but smiled. "Gabriel, there are rules for everything. I know, I intend to break them all.” 

“Break the rules of dating?” Gabriel closed his laptop, he couldn’t focus on his notes. “Isn’t your department Gluttony?” Wouldn’t Lust be responsible for such matters?

She ate a small meatball coated in an orange paste. “Right now, you’re my department.” Something cheeky flickered in her blue eyes. “And you provide plenty of food for me.”

The way she looked at him, it did something to him, to his corporation. When he met her eyes heat pooled in his stomach and he had to fight the urge to get up, sit next to her on the bed and feed her. He shifted in his armchair, loosening his tie a little. “You’re welcome.” Was what he settled for. 

“Am I?” She asked in a soft voice he only ever heard her use with him, not anyone else. She bit into a savoury small pastry. “So, what do you think are the rules?”

“I, uhm--” Gabriel frowned, thinking to all the books he had read, what the exiled agents had been up to, especially after being released from their former duties. “In general, I’d say dates are meetings for a mutually beneficial experience, emotionally.”

“And sexually.” Beelzebub said, dipping what he had learned to be olive bread into a white cream. 

“Well, yes, but if actual dating is involved, even _that_ is more emotional than not.” She looked pleased with his answer, it made his heart flutter. “But I firmly believe that waiting until blessed by holy matrimony is a wise decision.”

“Not the point.” Beelzebub waved his last statement off. “What do dates usually entail?” She asked, a brow of hers perking up. 

Gabriel thought back at what Aziraphale and Crowley, and humans, just like them, had been doing for millennia, “Sharing food.” 

“Why do you think that is?” Beelzebub queried. 

Food was her department, not his. Far from his. He was by no means qualified to give an answer. He didn’t eat, never has and most likely never will. What was the point of it, to chew meticulously prepared meals into pulp and, eww, swallowing them? He watched Beelzebub lick her fingers. She surely enjoyed food, the taste and smell and textures. He had heard her compliment palette and moan at particularly good creations. She had even moaned at the taste of his cock in a dream.

“Gabriel?”

“I think,” He began and crossed his legs. “To share resources?” 

“You’re more clever than you look.” she nodded approvingly. “That’s where it came from, initially. One human deemed another worthy of being cared for and shared their meal, losing a portion themselves, but hoping the other would return the favour.”

“And when they did, they knew the interest was mutual.”

“Yes.” She smiled at him, picking a roasted olive and dipping it into the cream as well. “It was different for Crowley, though. He doesn’t eat, but he does do his best to keep his angel well-fed.”

Gabriel wrinkled his nose. “Too well fed, if you ask me.”

“No one is asking you if you find Aziraphale attractive.” She laughed. “He obviously isn’t your type.”

“I have a type?”

“I think so, yes.” She set the tray aside and lay down on her belly, chin propped on one hand. Her blouse was loose enough to hang open, revealing her cleavage. “So, rule number one, sharing of resources. What else comes to mind?”

“Sharing interests, I guess?” He did not have a type! He never had any inclination to certain shapes of bodies or hair colours. That he found her attractive, it had nothing to do with her beautiful blue eyes and dark hair she now kept in a messy short tail. Her body was absolutely gorgeous, the way she moved, with bored regality, but also how she lazed. Her naked form was a work of art, as all ethereal were, being created by Her. It wasn’t a _type_ that made him feel all weird and tingly when she smiled at him. That was just Beelzebub, being herself, snarking at him when he was saying something stupid, laughing at his jokes, complimenting his suits when they pleased her. And he _really_ wanted to please her. 

Beelzebub swallowed her stuffed tomato. “Sharing interests, to get to know each other, see if the world views don’t clash too much.”

Gabriel inclined his head in thought. “I still wonder how Aziraphale and Crowley make it work.”

“What, being an angel and a demon?” Beelzebub gave him a smug smile. “You still think they aren’t able to share the same space without being at each other's throat?”

At that moment, Gabriel realized that maybe he was being a tiny bit of a hypocrite. He had no issues with being this close to Beelzebub, working with her was lovely. Yes, she was almost always late and rude and constantly nibbling on something but she was also intelligent, playful and delightfully pragmatic and just… making him feel things he never thought possible. He wanted to share time with her, be with her, kiss her. “No, just, how they manage to stay with each other, compromising on decor, where to go, what to do.”

Beelzebub put a hand on her chest and he instantly knew she was about to mock him. “Gabriel, oh Messenger of God, have you heard of the concept called communication?”

Gabriel rolled his purple eyes at her. “Very funny, Bella.” Fuck. He was not supposed to let that slip! He had been wanting to call the Prince this nickname again, but it was not proper. 

“Now I'm Bella again, hm?” She grinned, angling her lower legs up. God, the pose was _cute_. 

“If it bothers you--” Gabriel said, decidedly not stammering while his cheeks felt hot. 

“It doesn’t.” She shook her head and wiggled her toes. 

“Ok then.” Gabriel composed himself and took off his tie, hinging it over the armrest of his chair. “What would be another rule of dating, Bella?”

“Honesty.” She said, gesturing at him with an open palm. “You can’t prove yourself to be a good partner for life if you build your arguments with lies.”

“Thou shalt not bear false witness.” Gabriel quoted. 

“Yeah, yeah.” It was Beelzebub’s turn to roll eyes. “Guess who the fuck took care that the people weren’t starving at the foot of that mountain while Moses had his forty-fucking-days-long chat with Her.”

“No!” Gabriel gaped when she narrowed her eyes and nodded, pointing at herself. “And the golden calf? What had that been about, then?”

Beelzebub shrugged. “The Prince of Pride went a bit overboard.”

“Thousands were slaughtered over it.”

“You realize God severely lacked mercy especially in her early days?”

“Unlike you?” Gabriel spat, instantly regretting his harsh tone. She didn’t seem phased, thankfully.

“Unlike _me_ , yes. I provided them water and food, they were having a party and would have been on their way once Moses came back to them, but, no, God had to call the Sons of Levi to arms against their own family and friends.” Her tone changed, it was flat and stern now. 

“Over a false Idol!” Gabriel said, his voice rising. 

Beelzebub sat up on the bed, glowering at the Archangel. “A symbol of hope!”

“Made from gold!” Gabriel threw his hands in exasperation. “They were meant to exercise modesty.”

“They gave Mephistopheles all their gold in exchange for food, it was a _sacrifice_ , to keep their children alive.” She stabbed an accusatory finger in Gabriel’s direction. “Earrings, necklaces, family heirlooms. _Everything_. They thought he’d take it and leave, but he didn’t, nor did I. He gave them the golden calf, a symbol of feeding the young to gain a prosperous future, a reminder that praying alone doesn’t fill your belly.”

Grabiel felt anger pool in his stomach. No one should take Aaron’s side on this, it was forbidden. “But it is _written_ that Aaron wanted to create a God.”

“Don’t blindly believe every word that is written, Gabriel, you’re smarter than that.” Beelzebub pleaded, loudly. 

“Am I?” Gabriel huffed, matching her volume. 

“I wouldn’t be spending time with you otherwise.” She threw her arms out in front of her. “I actually like you, you moron!”

She looked taken aback by her own words while Gabriel felt an odd variant of pride blooming in his chest upon hearing them. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KISS! KISS! KISS!
> 
> Oh, hi, yes, that was me butchering biblical stories. 
> 
> Up next: 11 - Home ♥
> 
> PS: There most likely will only be a very short update on Wednesday as I want to attend a very important economic-political meeting. I'll do my best to provide something raunchy, but it definitely will be short.


	11. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel chuckled and shook his head, retreating behind his desk. “A crude overstatement, if you ask me. It’s only a little evil.”
> 
> “Little and evil, like a certain Prince?” Ramiel said, looking far too smug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the shorter updates, but there is no way I can push myself any further. Several things have come up that need my attention, but writing helps me to relax, so I'll keep doing that no matter what.
> 
> So, how about some soft domestic bullshit?
> 
> Enjoy!

  


###  ●●●●●●● 11 HOME ●●●●○○○ 

  
Gabriel peeked his head out of his office door. There was no one there, not a single feather to be seen, the coast was clear. He quietly went back inside and went to his desk. In his bottom drawer, behind a bible that had all the good parts, parts about him, highlighted, there was a small box. He took it out, glanced back to his door, and opened it. Inside were two golden air-buds, wireless earpieces. He put them in, grabbed his phone and pressed play on Wiener Blut (♪).

Gabriel rolled his shoulders and got into position. He could do this. If that not-sorry excuse for an angel Aziraphale was able to learn how to dance, he could as well. He closed his eyes and poised up his right hand imagining his hand laying in Beelzebubs, having her gently holding it. With his left hand in front of him, he concentrated on the three-quarter-time. It was just like learning combat skills or martial arts, he could get this ingrained into his muscle-memory. Gabriel had good muscle-memory, for an ethereal. 

All he had to do was step in a certain pattern and match the rhythm of the song. It wasn’t hard, really. Why was this frowned upon? Dancing demanded obedience. You adjust to the rhythm of the song, you follow the steps, it could have been a good exercise for angels. Get them all in formation, play a holy song and teach them the movements, make them follow. It made sense that angels would be able to dance. 

Demons, on the other hand, were chaotic. Why would Beelzebub learn to waltz? How would she break the rules of it?

Oh, well, beside her being decidedly female and petite compared to him and still taking the lead. Which Gabriel didn’t mind, at all, he actually enjoyed it. Something about Beelzebub barking orders felt thrilling to him. Elated by the thought he twirled on the spot, remembering the sway of Beelzebub’s swallowtail. Her jacket had been red on the inside, like her shawl lapels, she had looked so stunning. 

“Gabriel?” He heard coming from the door. 

“Fuck!” The Archangel cursed, almost tripping over his own feet as he hastily took out the buds from his ears, hiding them in his hands he quickly stuck in his trousers. "Oh, hello there, Micheal, Ramiel." He nodded at the two angels standing in his threshold.

"What are you doing?" Micheal asked and made her way to Gabriel, her pumps clicking on the floor, waving a hand at Ramiel to usher them inside. 

“Nothing.” Gabriel tried to lie, holding up his hands in a pacifying manner and stepping backwards as Micheal approached him. 

“Dancing.”, the Watcher provided. 

“Dancing!” Micheal repeated, crossing her arms. “And why would that be?”

Gabriel smiled at Micheal, brightly. “Recreational purposes?”

The other Archangel narrowed her eyes at him. “Have you forgotten that the waltz was considered the root of all evil?”

Gabriel chuckled and shook his head, retreating behind his desk. “A crude overstatement, if you ask me. It’s only a little evil.”

“Little and evil, like a certain Prince?” Ramiel said, looking far too smug for their own good. 

“Who exactly are you working for, by the way? Micheal or me?”

“I only serve God.”, the Watcher clarified and bowed their head. “Your requested files, Gabriel.”

“Yeah, right.” 

The two of them left him to tend to the stack of papers. To be finished _today_ , as Micheal had emphasized. She was letting him off the hook easily, and he knew it. She had a soft spot for him. Maybe he should actually be nice to her and do as she says for once.

 _After_ a quick peek into Beelzebub’s dream, as she surely was asleep right now. The demon kept a certain schedule by now, he’d heard. He even had seen it for himself, in Greece, wishing her goodnight when she had left his room, yawning adorably. 

Gabriel settled down on his chaise lounge, wiggled to get comfortable and let out a relaxing sigh. His arrival in her dreams wasn’t as relaxing. Gabriel had a knife in his hand, cutting what had to be carrots with it. His arrival disturbed the otherwise surely fluid motion and he nicked his own finger with the sharp tool.

He was bleeding _red_. Gabriel stared at his finger, as blood beaded from the small wound. What was going on here?

“I can’t believe you’re that clumsy.” He heard Beelzebub tut and before he could say in return she was right there, next to him, taking his hand and sucking the cut fingertip into her mouth. 

“I’m sorry.” Gabriel said, not entirely sure why. 

“Come here.” She dragged him along the cupboards and worktop. This was a kitchen, the angel realized. Beelzebub opened a narrow closet and took out a small tin box. Inside of it were black plasters and she wrapped one around Gabriel’s finger. “There. Now, be careful, the secret ingredient is not a blood sacrifice.”

“What else is it?” He went for humour to divert from his lack of knowledge. 

“It’s a secret, you dunce.” Beelzebub snorted and slapped him on his bum, making him move back to the cutting board. 

Gabriel picked the knife back up and looked at her expectantly. “Uhm, how much of this do you need?” 

“All of it, I’m starving.” She said and took a smaller knife to cut the cauliflower into florets. 

Good Lord, what terms for food he knew by now, after watching Beelzebub eat for almost a year. He took a look around. It was a kitchen with vibrant red painted walls, all furniture being black, even the sink was black. The worktop was made from black marble, his cutting board from a dark type of wood. The room was of a darker aesthetic in general, but it also felt warm and cosy. There were herbs growing on the windowsill, and outside was a garden. There was lavender in the flowerbeds!

He looked back to Beelzebub. She was dressed in a loose black tank top with nothing underneath and straight cut cotton trousers. No shoes, she stood barefoot on the black tiles, her black painted nails matching the decor. Gabriel looked down at his own body and found himself dressed in a soft grey tracksuit.

The atmosphere exceeded casual, this was leaning heavily towards _domestic_. He quickly got back to work on the carrots, trying his best to match the size and shape of the slices his dream-self had chopped. 

But when he held the knife to the vegetables, he spotted a golden ring on his hand. His heart jumped into his throat and snuck a glance at Beelzebub’s hand. She wore one, as well. Gabriel could hear his own heartbeat drumming in his ears. The demon’s feelings for him couldn’t possibly go this far!

“You ok, Gabriel?” She asked, smiling up at him. “You’re not going to die from blood loss, you wuss.”

“I, uhm--” Gabriel gulped. This wasn’t _a_ kitchen, it was _their_ kitchen. And he was in it, preparing food with her. “I really like your hair.”

Fuck, the way she beamed at him but still rolled her eyes. “Right. Come on, chop-chop, I’m almost done with the cauliflower.”

“Yes, I’m on it.” Gabriel nodded and chopped the carrots, as requested. 

Her hair really was nice, pulled up into a messy black bun. Stray strands of her were tucked behind her ears. How long would it take until her real hair got to this length? What would it look like when she wore it open? How would it feel if he combed his fingers through it? 

Once done with cutting all vegetables, Beelzebub melted butter in a pan and mixed the carrots with cauliflower and peas to fry them. She added salt, pepper, and something called provençal herbs. While one pan sizzled, she pulled out another and again melted butter in it. Into this one she placed big cubes of dark red meat, frying it hot and fast. Everything was laden onto two plates and placed on a small kitchen table behind them. 

“Are you going to tell me what the secret ingredient was?” Gabriel asked, sitting down across from her. 

“This.” She whispered and winked at him. She took a jar of honey with an odd-shaped spoon in it and dribbled some of the golden liquid onto her meal. “And getting to cook and eat with you, of course.” Her smile, it was so _soft_. He felt like he was about to melt, just like the butter, and reached for her hand. 

“You’re welcome, Bella.”

With that, he left. His dream-version would be eating the surely delicious food with Beelzebub, he didn’t want to ruin that for her. Gabriel stayed on the chaise lounge for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, and a risky little plan was writing itself in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the waltz was seriously deemed sinful and raunchy and the root of all evil throughout the 17th and 18th century. 
> 
> Up next: 12 - Throne ♥


	12. Throne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Archwanker Gabriel, my Lord.” The demon said, flipped the angel off and let the door fall shut again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my original draft, this was PWP. Now it's fluffy nonsense, and I’m not even remotely sorry. I need this. 
> 
> (and this is written by exhausted me and beta-read by exhausted husband, I'm sorry)
> 
> Enjoy!

  


###  ●●●●●●● 12 THRONE ●●●●●○○ 

  
Gabriel hasn’t seen Beelzebub for weeks. Just like during the summer, it hurt. His chest ached, there was a lump in his throat when he let his thoughts drift to her, his hands felt odd, wanting to reach out for her. It was strange, to say the least, and it was slowly but surely driving him mad.

For probably the first time in his long, long life, Gabriel accepted the fact that he needed help. Which is why he was knocking at Micheal’s door, nervously, shifting from one foot to another. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this agitated, but it won’t be the last time. That, he was sure of. 

“Come in.” He heard muffled through the door. 

He steeled himself, straightened his broad shoulders, and went inside. He hadn’t been here in a while. Huh, Micheal had _decorated_. That was new, for any angel. She always had enjoyed dressing her corporation in make-up, jewellery, and frilly ruffles on her blouses. She had embraced gold as a colour and put it _everywhere_. She had several artfully gold-framed mirrors in her office. Along the windows stood seven telescopes of various sizes, all of them with intricate golden fittings. Black and white portraits of saints hung on the walls, all of them, of course, framed in gold. 

She capped her golden pen and looked up at Gabriel. “What can I do for you?”

“Not a ‘good morning’?” Gabriel asked, clasping his hands and smiling at her. 

“Is it _good_?” She asked, leaning back in her cream-coloured leather wingback chair, that had, of-fucking-course, also golden details. 

“It could be.” The Messenger said, shrugging with one shoulder. “I really like what you did with the place, by the way.”

“Thank you,” The corners of her lips quirked up minutely, “but, seriously, what can I do for you?”

He tugged at his cufflinks, timidly. “Is it that obvious?” 

“Gabriel, you carry your heart on your sleeve.” She said with a resigned sigh and crossed her arms. 

“My heart--”

“Don’t even _try_.” Micheal held an authoritative finger up. She even had her nails painted gold. “You’ve come to me for a reason, and there is no need for dilly-dallying. What do you need?”

“I want to go to Hell.” Gabriel declared in a firm voice. 

Micheal groaned, leaned on her desk with her elbows and pinched the bridge of her narrow nose. “Ok,” she let her hands fall flat on the table’s surface, “I will not ask why, Gabriel, because I _know_ why, and I want you to know that I know why.”

“So,” Gabriel made a somewhat flailing gesture, charming smile unfaltering, “you’ll help me?”

She glowered at him, but after an excruciating tense moment nodded. “Yes.”

That had been step one of his plan. Step two was the reason he now stood in a florist shop, in a sea of colours, entirely overwhelmed. 

“How may I help you, sir?” A young lady asked. 

Gabriel dragged his eyes over a plethora of peonies, dahlias, asters and carnations. “I need a bouquet.” 

The woman chuckled. “Of course. What do you have in mind?” 

He couldn’t just buy one of the bouquets on display, that was far too impersonal. He’d have to make decisions here, based on what he knew about the Prince. Planning a war was _nothing_ in comparison to this. 

“I, uhm--” Gabriel let his view wander. “I need something dark and red. It should be more elegant than cute, with no wasteful fillers.” He explained. “And maybe something… edible?” 

“That’s an odd request, sir,”, she said with a kind smile, “but I like it. Is it for a specific occasion?” 

“Yes, actually.” Gabriel felt his cheeks heat. “There is a woman I like.” 

The way she looked at him, it felt as if she were reading his body language as if he was an open book. “And this bouquet will be part or telling her so?”

“Well, yes.” Gabriel confirmed. 

“How about red roses, then, a symbol of love?”

Having someone else call what he felt for Beelzebub _love_ made a wave of warmth rush through his entire being. “And lilies.” Gabriel added. She liked them, and they were connected to him, historically.

The florist nodded and got to work, gathering deep dark red roses in her hand. “Did you know they symbolized beauty among the old Greeks?” She told him while reaching for the darkest burgundy callas on display. 

“I did not.” Gabriel admitted, marvelling at the pretty blooms. Beside ‘it’s the flower the Archangel Gabriel gave the Virgin Mary upon Annunciation’ he didn’t know or care what a calla lily stood for. 

“Smell these.” She said, holding a dark brown flower, the shape reminiscent of a daisy, out to him. 

“That’s,” he took another sniff, “vanilla? Chocolate?” Gabriel wondered with astonishment. 

“Yes, a mix of both. They are called chocolate cosmos.” She explained, adding them to the other flowers. “They smell edible, but they are poisonous, so be careful. I hope I’m not interpreting too much, but their meaning, beside peacefulness, is 'I love you more than anyone could', is that alright with you?” 

Gabriel smiled nervously. “She’ll appreciate the hint of arrogance.” He watched her lay out the flowers on a desk. One by one, she picked them up, building the bouquet. 

“What do you think about adding these?” She held up twigs of dark blue berries. “They are edible, but quite sour.”

“She won’t mind.” Beelzebub wasn’t a picky eater, and sour and tangy fruits were among her favourite snacks. 

She added only a few simple greens on the outside and presented her creation to the archangel. "Will this be ok, sir?”

Gabriel imagined the dark flowers held in Beelzebub’s hands and his heart skipped several beats. “Perfect.”, was all he could muster at that moment, his mouth had gone dry.

The florist made the courtly bow accompanied by the brightest smile and went ahead to wrap it in black paper. 

Time for step three. With his bouquet in hand, Gabriel made his way to Hell, using the card Micheal had given him. It was a broken piece of plastic with sharp edges and mouldy smelling lanyard. It disgusted him to wear it, but he had little choice.

“The fuck do _you_ want here?” He was greeted at the Gates of Hell by a smoking demon dressed in a torn and dirtied red tracksuit. 

“I seek an audience with the Lord of Flies.” Gabriel stated with a level tone. 

“Yeah, right.” He took a long drag from his cigarette, his Santa hat’s pom-pom dangling dangerously close to the gleaming tip. “You can fuck off, wankwings.”

“Look, _buddy_ , you can either let me go see her, or someone might start asking questions why you’d keep the Archangel Gabriel waiting.”

“Pick a number like everyone else.” He puffed his smoke into Gabriel’s face. “Your title means shit here.”

“You surely know a lot about shit, smelling like that.” The angel said with a grimace.

“Trying to be smart with me, eh?” The demon laughed, blowing smoke from his nostrils. “The Prince ain’t seeing no angels.”

Gabriel physically felt the urge to correct the demon’s grammar, but he had to behave. “You might want to ask her about that.” Fuck, now he was really putting his dignity in Beelzebub’s hands. 

“Oh, I will.” The demon tugged the cigarette into a corner of his mouth and pulled out a brick-sized flip phone. Good Lord, he even hadn’t muted his button tones, it was driving Gabriel up the wall. “Hey, boss, there is this weird fucker from Heaven here trying to speak with the boss boss? - What does he look like? A pimped out himbo, if you ask me. - Yeah, he said that’s his name, how do you know?”

Gabriel gave him a winning smirk when the demon looked at him, eyes wide with disbelief. He clicked the phone shut, sucked in the cigarette butt to _chew it_ , and gestured for Gabriel to enter. 

“Lord Dagon says you’re enough of an asshole to come in.” The demon grumbled.

He was led the way to Beelzebub’s throne room. The rusty old door squeaked on its hinges as it swung open. 

“The Archwanker Gabriel, my Lord.” The demon said, flipped the angel off and let the door fall shut again. 

“Hi.” Gabriel said, smiling up at the Prince who was clad in her worn-down old regalia, edges torn, the sash the only clean piece of fabric, and swarmed by countless flies. “Can we talk in private?”

“No.” Dagon hissed from her smaller seat on Beelzebub’s left.

“Aren’t you,” the Messenger began, pointing at the scaled demon, “the Master of Torments? What exactly are you doing here?”

“I’m the Lord of Files, serving the Prince of Gluttony. Nothing is more tormenting than paperwork, asshole.” Dagon flashed him her sharp teeth. 

“Ah, that explains it.” Gabriel said as nicely as he could make himself. “But please let me have a word in private with Beelzebub?” He batted his eyes at her.

“Ewww!” Dagon gagged and turned to her superior. “How are you able to deal with _that_ all the blessed time, my Lord?” 

Beelzebub was blushing beautifully. A somewhat nervous hand of hers reached up and adjusted her regal ribbons. “I can handle him. Leave.”

Dagon looked between the two, eyes darting from one to the other an back, and wrinkled her nose. “Scream if you need me.” The door behind her fell shut with a crunchy groan as she left. 

Beelzebub took a deep breath and her flies settled down, on the walls, the backpiece of her throne, her hair, everywhere. “What do you want?

“A date.” The Archangel blurted out, speech that he had written in his mind thrown to the wind. “An actual date that we both know to be a date.”

Beelzebub didn’t respond, but her posture oozed skepticism. Well then. He pulled out the bouquet from behind his back and peeled back the paper, bit by bit, taking one step up to her throne at a time. 

“Listen, Bella, I've been thinking about it a lot. I know you like me, and I hope you know that I like you as well.” He bumbled and held the flowers out to her. "So why not try to have an actual date? See where it goes?" Flies descended upon them, dipping into every bloom, crawling over the berries.

Tentatively, she reached out and took the offered bouquet and held it to her chest. “These are nice.”

“Please?” Gabriel begged, wringing his now empty hands. 

Beelzebub squirmed on the throne. The Archangel Gabriel had made royalty of hell squirm on their throne. Several expressions flitted over her face and he could see her swallow visibly. Her eyes were transfixed on the dark red flowers she kept close to her heart. “Ok”, she rasped and met his eyes, “ _after_ New Year’s, I’m swamped with work until then.”

She had said yes!

Not the exact word, but she had agreed to go on a date with him! It felt like a victory, but in an entirely different way then the Plan had ever prophesied and Gabriel fist-pumped the stale air of Hell, brimming him happiness. 

“You're unbelievable.” Beelzebub laughed, her eyes sparkling with emotion.

“Have some faith.” Gabriel returned with a wink. 

The next time curiosity got the better of him between Christmas and the end of the year, Gabriel found himself on her throne. In this dream, he sat on the demon Prince’s spot, naked, with all his six wings spread and arched around the Lord of Flies who sat in his lap. She was naked as well, her back straight and proud, her legs spread apart to show the entirety of Hell that she had the angel’s cock buried inside her, while she was barking orders at her underlings. 

Gabriel tried to make sense of that particular dream for days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no clue how I managed to scrape together almost 2k words today. Good night, I'll go catch my 5h of sleep now. 
> 
> Up next: 13 - Dulcet ♥


	13. Dulcet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still, the Archangel was nervous. This was different. This wasn’t about work, at all, it was about their private connection, their emotional … _stuff_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I’ve changed the title. I’m sorry for the short chapter, but I’m exhausted and beat an I need rest. I’m not sorry about the cliffhanger, though. 
> 
> Enjoy!

  


###  ●●●●●●● 13 DULCET ●●●●●●○ 

  


It was already mid-January when Gabriel looked at the posh French building in front of him. It was fit for royalty but at the same time a quiet place in a lush and peaceful environment. The menu was a bit exclusive but also had more simple dishes with local delicacies. He was sure Beelzebub would like it, judging by their restaurant and hotel meetings of the past year. 

Still, the Archangel was nervous. This was different. This wasn’t about work, at all, it was about their private connection, their emotional … _stuff_. He took a deep breath to steady himself. He knew she liked him, there was no need to worry this much. Beelzebub enjoyed spending time with him, in the real world and even more so in her dreams. 

And the things she had dreamt about! Everything from having a picnic, letting Gabriel feed her, sharing sweet kisses, and excessive pleasures. But also saving him from a dragon or sharing a home. Beelzebub’s creative mind came up with the most intriguing scenarios, and Gabriel couldn’t get enough of it, of her, and _fuck_ the urge to hold and kiss her was etched into his core by now. 

He looked at his watch. Yes, he had been early, but he had also told her to be here at noon to have some time buffer depending on how late she’d run. They’d serve lunch until three in the afternoon, and three full hours should be enough even for her. 

Gabriel pushed his hands into his trousers’ pockets. He had dressed in one of his favourite suits, a light graphite coloured three-piece with a white shirt underneath, adorned by a lilac tie with a filigree brocade pattern of lavender flowers and a golden wing-shaped pin. All the time he had fussed over his hair was for nought the moment his lightning struck the grounds of the restaurant. He kept combing a hand through it while waiting, but he was sure it was still messier than he’d like. 

A small flame danced on the grass before him. The ground bulged and opened as Beelzebub rose from Hell. She had dressed impeccably. She wore an elegant pair of black classy high waist trousers and a jacket that was somewhere between bolero and regular blazer. Underneath was a fitted red blouse with glistening black gems for buttons. Her lapel pin was a silver version of her sigil, delicately carved. 

“You look great.” Gabriel said, feeling himself _swoon_. 

Beelzebub brushed herself off but eyed him head to toe, quite obviously liking what she saw. She wasn’t even trying to hide it. “You too.” She stated and turned her head to look at the restaurant. “Shall we?” She offered her arm to him. 

Gabriel mentally told himself to get his shit together, calm the fuck down, and simply be charming as always. 

He looped his hand through her elbow and let her lead the way inside and to their table that had plush pink peonies at its centre.

Why did everything feel so different now? All that had changed was giving their meeting here a different name: date. That’s it. Why was his heart hammering in his chest relentlessly? He looked down at the demon beside him, meeting her eyes, seeing her smile. _Oh fuck._

Their date went well. They chatted and snarked, he made Beelzebub laugh on several occasions and she made him _think_ on even more. It had been nice and lovely and she enjoyed the food. Red caviar filled olives for starters, a plate of nut coated steak with fried potatoes and a creamy sauce as the main course for Beelzebub and gilthead fish with glacéed vegetables ‘for Gabriel’ the demon ate as well. Her dessert was a carved out sour apple filled with, what he was told, delicious salted caramel ice cream. 

Throughout lunch, she still kept drinking tea with a slice of lemon and a dab of honey in it. There were certain things about Beelzebub that didn’t change. But then there was her hair, pulled back into a small feathery tail, strands hanging into her face she kept pushing behind her ear while she talked with him about anything and everything. 

Lunch had turned into tea, tea had turned into dinner, and by the time they made their way back outside Gabriel was ready to beg her to just _stay_ with him.

“This was nice.” She said, again going for the dubious word hiding something more descriptive.

Gabriel didn’t push it, only smiled at her, feeling jittery and hyped. “It was, yes.” 

“So back to work, I guess?” Beelzebub asked, standing closer to him than usual. 

He was getting lost in her blue eyes for inexplicable reasons. Some things about Beelzebub were just beyond words for the Messenger. He nodded at her. “Let me know when you have time, and I’ll _make_ time myself.”

The demon snorted, “I will.” She said, quietly, and got up on her toes to place the loveliest small kiss on Gabriel’s lips which seemingly made the world stop spinning. That soft connection, it sparked something in him unlike any lightning ever had. Her lips were warm, her breath sweet as it ghosted over his face. His knees almost buckled, when he realized the significance of what was happening, but before he could lean in, she let her heels settle back flat on the ground. “See you soon.”, Beelzebub whispered. 

Too stunned to say anything in return, Gabriel watched her descent to Hell. 

He reached for his lips, at the soft flesh felt hot under his fingertips.

She had kissed him! Outside of a dream, after a date, a date she had liked, with an angel she liked and _she had kissed him._

Gabriel was useless back in his office, leg restless, fingers tapping, unable to concentrate on anything but the precious demon he had spent most of the day with. How did it affect her? Was she pacing her office? Fidgeting on her throne? Thinking about him? 

He looked at his watch. Maybe, she was asleep. He glanced at his chaise longue than back at his papers. Just a few minutes, he could spare a few minutes, right? Gabriel dropped his pen on his desk and his body onto the chaise and went straight into Beelzebub’s dream. 

He was back in the same house that he had cooked in, judging by the view from the window. Gabriel was laying on a king-sized bed with a black bedsheet and soft red bedclothes. He was dressed in a comfortable cotton white tracksuit, maybe even pyjamas, with his feet naked and tucked under the pushed down duvet. Again, there was a ring on his left hand that held a tablet. The demon herself lay with her head on his thigh reading a book she held in one hand, holding Gabriel’s right with the other, fingers entwined and thumb stroking patterns into his skin. She was dressed in another loose black tank top that was slipping of her shoulder and black shorts. 

It was so peaceful, yet so intimate. He’d do anything to create this for her, in reality, find her a place she was able to relax in and be there, with her, if she wanted him. 

“Hey, Bella?” Gabriel spoke, quietly.

“Hm?” She turned her head to look at him, face serene and open.

“I love you.”

As soon as those three words had left his lips the demon’s face blanched, the dream blacked out and all was _gone_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Common peony meanings include romance, prosperity, good fortune, a happy marriage, riches, honour, and compassion — but peonies can also mean _bashfulness_.”
> 
> And they are fucking cute, guys.
> 
> Up next: 14 - Walk ♥


	14. Walk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been excessively lazy all morning and wrote all of this within four hours. With quite the detours and re-planning and RL-hurdles, I still made it to the exact dumb joke I had in my head ever since… July 2019? 
> 
> Enjoy!

  


###  ●●●●●●● 14 WALK ●●●●●●● 

  
Gabriel had fucked up. He wasn’t exactly sure how, but he knew he had done something wrong. Beelzebub had cancelled all meetings, no notes attached. Gabriel still went to Budapest and waited for her at their table, but she didn’t show up.

The same happened in Paris, leaving his chest to be riddled with pain. 

In Venice, where he got out of the place just in time before his first sob bubbled from his tight throat. 

He had fucked up, and he wanted to know what, and how to fix it. Beelzebub, as always, didn’t respond to anything he sent her. Any and all physical messages were returned by Lord Dagon, most of them with rude scribblings added. 

Gabriel sat sprawled out on his office chair, staring aimlessly out of his windows. Had she found out that he went into her dreams without permission? Well, the first few times had been her fault, but maybe he should have kept his distance after… Probably the picnic? It had been too private. Dreams were _private_ things, intimate thoughts woven into entire worlds to live through, understand and experience things that really mattered, especially for Beelzebub. They were not a mere messaging medium. 

Dreams, just like privacy, weren’t _a thing_ in Heaven. Closed doors were for secrecy, not privacy, and God forbid you were caught sleeping on the job. Just a reminder: you were on your job 24 hours a day, every day, and since most holidays were created with God in mind, therefore angels worked harder on those. 

The lack of war did give everyone a little spare time these days, Gabriel had personally seen to that as part of his joint project with Beelzebub. Since Metatron wasn’t able to provide any reasons against it, the project remained unchanged, requesting angels to take some time each week to relax. 

Some simply went to church each Sunday or did some voluntary work among humans, the bravest of them outside the field of their department. 

None, however, have strayed as far as Aziraphale, who was originally tasked to mingle with humans, protect specific individuals, and report to Heaven. Over time, it had turned into him indulging in all sorts of human traditions, cuisine, encouraging love in all its forms, settling down in the South of England to found a bookshop and _marry a demon_. 

Gabriel sighed. Now even he was jealous of them just like Beelzebub had been. On top of that, he was now feeling bad for having scoffed at her about that last Spring. Aimlessly, he flipped through the files, fascinated with how their wedding cake had incorporated both entities. The entire outside was covered in quotes on love by all the big authors of poems and plays, with a snake circling all four stories. On top sat two figurines, the grooms, in a white and black suit each, under an apple tree. 

He closed the file and picked another. This one was _worse_. Photographs of their shared cottage and garden. The inside was all soft blues and sand colours mixed with grey and black. Crowley had let Azirpahle decide on most furnishings and decorations, as long as the garden was his domain. Which he, curiously, also designed and planted to impress his husband. There were white flowers everywhere, throughout the year, and berry bushes for homemade marmalade and cake toppings. The demon was cooking for Aziraphale. 

Gabriel slapped the folder shut. He needed a hobby. Running did nothing anymore, all his feet wanted to do was run towards the Prince, and that wasn’t an option these days. He needed something else, something new, to keep himself busy. His eyes roamed Earth through his windows. 

There. That’d be a good spot.  


  


  


Weeks had passed without any word from Beelzebub. So when there was a knock at the door, the Archangel tripped over his feet as he rushed towards. He swung it open, and his pounding heart dropped. 

“Oh, it’s you.” Gabriel muttered. 

“How lovely to see you, Gabriel, thank you for inviting me in.” Micheal lilted and walked straight into the living room. 

“Micheal?” He called after her and followed the clicking of her pumps on the dark hardwood floor. in

“I have to admit, I'm impressed.” She said, “This is all by you?” Micheal pointed her finger up and circled it to address the entirety of Gabriel’s project. 

His project was a small house on the Catalonian coast. He had kept himself busy with interior design, creating something he wanted to call home, but refused to. Micheal stood in the light grey painted living room that had an entire wall replaced with windows and a glass door that led to the garden. It was furnished with a dark red three-seat sofa with an attached chaise longue, a matching armchair, cherry wood bookshelves, sideboard and coffee table, a cream white high pile rug in front of a small fireplace and a corner with a TV and stereo he had never used but kept for appearance. The kitchen he had remodelled after Beelzebub’s dream, the same goes for the bedroom. The bathroom was all greys and dark purple with golden accents. The two spare rooms were still bare, walls white and floors empty. 

“Uhm, thank you?” Gabriel said. Why was _Micheal_ here? “Can I get you anything?”

“A stiff drink and answers.” She said, taking a seat on the armchair. 

Gabriel scratched his recently grown and neatly trimmed full beard. “I only have tea, to be honest.”

“Sit down.” Micheal ordered, so he did, on the edge of the chaise longue he had used countless times to try and reach out to Beelzebub. “I’ve come to talk about your expenses, Gabriel.”

“That’s not your department.” The Messenger said with his brows knit. 

“No, it’s _yours_ ,” his guest pointed out, “and that’s exactly the problem.” She snapped her fingers and a gold-rimmed flute with champagne appeared in her hand. She emptied it one gulp. “I’ve been sent to investigate your spendings. Gabriel, you can’t spend years worth of miracles on Earthly possessions! If you caught anyone going over their budget to this extent, you’d have them reprimanded into the ground and paying back in manual good deeds for centuries!” 

“Micheal--”

“I’m _not_ done!” Her flute refilled and was emptied in an instant. “Do you have any idea how hard it already was to keep your credit card bills hidden for a year? We all know you invest too much on clothes and accessories, for Heaven’s sake, we were willfully ignoring that ever since money was created.” She massaged her temple with her free hand and took a deep breath. “But all those restaurants and hotel bookings? How do you suppose to explain that to anyone Upstairs? Are you _mad_?”

“I’m in love!” Gabriel huffed, bluntly blurting it out, and rubbed his face with both hands. 

“Don’t I know it.” Micheal’s flute filled for the third time and she drank it just as quickly. Gabriel didn’t even know that she drank at all. “And at this stage, it’s basically the same thing.” She continued, more or less mumbling.

“I had to keep myself busy, and I thought I might as well do something productive and-- I don’t know.” He was far beyond frustrated and flopped back down onto the long seat, groaning.

“And build a _nest_ for Lord Beelzebub.” Micheal sighed. “Gabriel, _look_ at this place!” 

“I don’t need to look, I created it!” The Messenger threw his arms up in exasperation, just to let them fall to the cushions of the sofa in defeat. “Because, one day, she might talk to me again. I could take her here. I really want to.” He spoke against the hard lump in his throat. 

Micheal was quietly sipping the rest of her drink, gold-painted nail tapping against the glass. She sat the flute down, stood up and pulled out her _other_ phone. After just two clicks she held it to her ear and made her way to the terrace outside. 

“Hey, sweety, I need a favour.” Gabriel heard before she closed the glass door. 

The Messenger pushed himself up on his elbows, watching her gesticulate animatedly on his flower framed patio. She kept her back to him, so he couldn’t make out any of the words. 

“Who were you talking to?” He inquired when she came back inside. 

Nonchalantly, she shrugged. “No one.”, Micheal gave for an answer and batted her eyes at him, innocently. _Right._ “You, on the other hand, know exactly who you need to talk to.”

“What are you implying?” Gabriel asked, watching her vanish the flute. 

“You know what you’ve done, _she_ knows what you’ve done, and she is giving you one chance - _one_ \- to explain yourself.” She clarified while adjusting her blazer.

“How much time do I get to prepare?”

“As if she’d allow _the Messenger_ to write a fancy speech beforehand. She’s waiting.” She made her way to the front door. “Good luck.”

Panic rose within Gabriel. He wanted to talk to Beelzebub, but at the same time, it scared him more than anything else ever had. He had to do this, she was worth it. He scooted up on the chaise longue and settled with a shaky breath and rampant heart. 

It only got worse the very second he entered her dream, where she already stood in front of him, arms crossed over her chest, face set in tight lines. 

“Hi?” He ventured, in an anxious high pitched voice.

Her eyes narrowed on him, making him flinch. “Hi.” Her fingers dug into her upper arms. “How long have you been spying on me?”

“What?” Gabriel squeaked.

“If you’re not answering my questions, I’ll throw you out.” The demon growled. “You will now take a walk with me, and we’ll talk.” She turned and started along a footpath on a meadow. 

He knew this place! It was the same as in the dream with the dragon, the floor was still covered in bluebells. He steeled himself and followed her. “I never spied on you, Bella.”

She twitched when she heard the nickname, but didn’t mention it. “What the fuck were you doing then?”

“Actually,” he began, after having caught up to her, “you never answered my emails or texts, I was just trying to reach you this way.”

“Have you ever considered the possibility that you shouldn’t poke around in other people’s heads?” She wasn’t even looking at him.

“I wanted to tell you I wasn’t part of your dream, but you kept interrupting me, something about a Prince Albert?”

She stopped on her tracks and swirled around. “A year? You’ve been in my head _for a year_?” 

“I’m sorry!” Gabriel whined. 

“You better be!” She yelled at him. “How many dreams have you snuck into?” 

The angel counted them in his head, all of them were etched into his memory. “Including this one?”

She angrily rolled her blue eyes and began to walk again. “A number, you moron, give me a fucking number.”

“Fourteen, in total.” Gabriel admitted ruefully. 

She ruffled her own hair with frustration. “You had thirteen chances to tell me! Thirteen, alone in my dreams, countless outside of them.”

“I wanted to.” The angel muttered. 

“Why didn’t you?!” The demon bellowed beside him and kept on walking

“I didn’t want to lose what we already had.” Gabriel told her, and it was the truth. He wanted to be with her, to keep meeting her, spending time together. 

“What you had, you asshole.” Beelzebub spat at him, furious. “All I had were my dreams!”

“I’m sorry!” The angel repeated. “I really am!”

“Fuck, the things I do to you in my dreams!” She buried her face in her hands. “How the Heavens are you still talking to me, at all, aren’t you grossed out?” 

“No, I’m not, not a bit.” The angel frowned at her. 

“Then, what’s in it for you?!”

“Well, _you_ are.” Gabriel said, feeling himself blush. He braced himself and reached for her hand. It was cold and her muscles taut. “And I liked the things you want to do to me.”

“You can’t be serious.” Beelzebub said but didn’t pull her hand away. 

Gabriel remained quiet for a moment, stroking his thumb over the back of her rigid hand. “What gave me away?”

Her grip on his hand tightened. “What you said, in the last dream.”

“That I love you?”

Her face contorted. “Yes.” Her bottom lip started to tremble. “I’d never allow myself to dream of you saying _that_ to me.”

After all her yelling, this was what broke Gabriel’s heart. “Why?”

“You know very well who and what I am.” She stated, resignation in her voice, yet she was still not letting go of his hand. 

“But that’s exactly the reason I love you.”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t, she was shaking, but no longer with anger. 

“Bella--”

The demon shook her head. “Why do you call me that?”

“It’s cute.” Gabriel stated, offering a smile. 

She laughed, but it was directly followed by a sob. “It means ‘beautiful’, you should know, you’re the Messenger!”

“Of course I know.” The angel bumped his shoulder to hers in an attempt to be playful to relieve some of the tension. “That’s another reason why I call you that.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Beelzebub muttered and let her head fall against his arm, sniffing audibly. 

“It's the truth.” Gabriel pointed out. “It’s not a dream.” 

“How am I supposed to know anymore?” She asked, winding her other hand around his bicep, slowing her pace. 

“Would you come see me?” The angel asked in a soft tone. 

She nodded against his arm, holding on to him. “Where?”

“At, uhm--” Gabriel huffed an embarrassed laugh. “At your house.”

“My _what_ now?” She came to a halt.

“Come, and I'll explain.”

She nodded at him, and the dream faded. Gabriel found himself on his sofa and jumped up to make his way outside, into the garden. A few seconds later the ground split and Beelzebub pushed up through it, thankfully outside the flowerbeds.

“So, well,” Gabriel began and fumbled for something in his trouser pockets, “the timing might be wrong, but, happy Valentine’s Day?” He held his hand out to her and it lay a set of black keys. 

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Her eyes switched between the angel and the finca behind him, connecting the metaphorical dots. “You’re supposed to give me chocolates or flowers!”

“There are chocolates in the kitchen and flowers in the garden.” Gabriel gestured at the tulips around them, a mix of almost black dark red ones and light lilacs.

“A house. You’re giving me a house.”

“There are also flowers _in_ the house.” He pointed over his shoulder with a thumb. 

“You’re ridiculous!” Beelzebub flailed, her eyes unable to settle, taking in the landscape, the garden, the house, the fidgeting angel. Her flies spread out into the flowerbeds, the trees, everywhere.

Gabriel took the Prince by the elbow and gently guided her to come inside. “This house is for you, for when you need to relax. We’re in Catalonia, there are plenty of tapas restaurants around, a mix of French and Spanish cuisine. I thought you’d like that. The beach will be nice once it gets warmer and--”

“Stop, just stop.” She held her hands up. “You’re insane.” Her eyes widened and she spun on the spot, looking at the living room. 

“If you don’t like it--”

“No, no, I do, but,” she took a slow and very deep breath, “this is a lot to take in right now.”

“Take all the time you need.” Gabriel said, not sure where to go from here.

“I don’t need time. Fuck time.” Beelzebub said, throwing out her arms. “Gabriel, I’ve been in love with you for _literally_ only God knows how long.” She pushed her hands into her already messy hair and kept them there. “I’ve tried to get over it for _thousands_ of years, knowing that one day I’d have to kill you. It was utterly pointless and without hope to even _try_ to be with you.”

That explained a few things. A lot of things. “And then the world didn’t end.” Gabriel stated.

“It kind of did, don’t you think?” Beelzebub sat down on the sofa, patting the spot next to her, inviting Gabriel to sit with her. “Earth itself remained the same, but everything changed for Heaven and Hell.”

The Archangel nodded, understanding. “Because She never went after Aziraphale and Crowley.”

“I believe She wouldn’t go after us, either.” This time it was Beelzebub who reached out first, taking Gabriel’s hand. “I don’t know if it’s by Her decision or Adam’s doing, but if there is now even the slightest chance that I could be with you, you insufferable, arrogant, nosy--”

“Hey!”

“But also generous and gorgeous and-- _please_ tell me this house has a bed?”

That sounded better. “Does that mean--” He couldn’t even finish his sentence, there was suddenly a beautiful demon in his lap. 

“Yes.” She took his face in both hands. “Whatever you are going to ask, yes to everything.” 

And sealed that with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand scene. We’re done, folks, happy Valentine’s Day! Go out there and smooch your loved one! Give your pets some extra treats, text your mom, spread some love. 
> 
> Up next: Me, having a week off, _chillin' out maxin' relaxin' all cool._ After that, I’ll go back working on the kidfic. I have so many plans for that one, you have no idea. Then there is also the bureaucratic equivalent of the third episode cold intro I’m working on.
> 
> See you around, hit the Ineffable Bureaucracy tag and spread some kudos!
> 
> PS: Jon Hamm with a beard is gorgeous, fight me.

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it, the base idea of your bureaucratic ride to Valentine' Day 2020.
> 
> Up next: 02 Picnic ♥


End file.
